Caught Between Three Colonels
by Rosemary-NZ
Summary: *Re-work complete, I'm happy now :-)* Lt. Col. Tavington and Lt. Col. Tarleton place a wager - to seduce Miss Beth Martin and take her virtue. Neither Officer counts on falling in love with her. However, Col. Burwell of the Continental Army has a prior claim to the girl and even as Tavington begins his seduction, he plots how Beth can be used against Burwell.
1. Chapter 1 - Burwell Flees CharlesTown

_**If you're reading this story for the first time, please bear with me because I am reworking each chapter, editing mistakes (God there are loads of those - its embarrassing!) and fixing the dialogue and descriptions, etc. The changes shouldn't be too confusing, I hope. It'll take some time, thats for sure!**_

_Disclaimer - I do not own the Patriot, book or movie, or the stories characters. I do not earn money from my stories._

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**Caught Between Three Colonels**

**Chapter One - Burwell Flees Charles Town**

_Charles Town: May 1780_

With a heavy heart, Mrs. Charlotte Selton gazed out the window to the street below. Though the windows were closed, the sounds of panic and strife came to her clearly. She watched as many Patriots - many of them of her own acquaintance - rushed along the street to flee the bustling township. Charles Town had fallen to the British and the Redcoats would be moving in. She pressed her hands to her stomach and tried to quell the flood of tears. When she gazed out her window the same time tomorrow, she knew it would be to see Coats of Red rather than Coats of Blue.

The Continental Army had abandoned the township and was in the process of retreating, taking many prominent Patriot families with them. Those elitist individuals who had, until now, governed all of South Carolina. If they remained, they risked becoming hostages to the British.

Though she was a Patriot from a prominent family herself, Charlotte Selton did not feel she was in any danger of being taken captive. She held no political power, had no ties of marriage or blood to any who did. Well, except for Benjamin Martin of course. Charlotte gnawed at her bottom lip fretfully and glanced at her young niece, Benjamin's daughter - Beth.

Miss Elizabeth Anne Martin, Charlotte's late sister's oldest daughter. Beth had lived in Charles Town these past four years - the first two with Charlotte, the last two with Charlotte's brother, Mark Putman. Both Mark and Charlotte had been entrusted with the protection of the girl and they took their responsibility toward her seriously.

Beth reclined on a chaise, seemingly absorbed in the leather bound book she held propped against her knees. Though she _seemed_ oblivious to what was occurring beyond the parlor out on the street - Charlotte knew better. Beth had been staring at the same page for half an hour now. She sat tensely rather than at her ease and she was a little too pale, her dark brown eyes strained. She hid it well, but Charlotte clearly saw that her niece was not insensible to the turmoil outside.

As an Assemblyman's daughter, Beth _could_ be of interest to the British... The enemy was well known for taking key members of prominent Patriot families into their 'protection'. These 'guests' were then used as the British saw fit. As pieces on the game board of war.

After much consideration, Charlotte dismissed the thought. While Benjamin spoke frequently for the Patriots when the Assembly convened, at the very last meeting four years ago he had spoken _against_ war with Britain. That alone might prove enough for Sir Henry Clinton. Besides, Benjamin did not hold any political power beyond the Assembly - not like the Rutledge family or the Simms.

No, Beth was in no danger, Charlotte decided as she turned back to the window. The view had not changed, she saw men galloping by, others driving their carriages. Not an unusual sight in and of itself, but there was an urgency about them that had never been there before.

Then again, Colonel Harry Burwell, commander of the Continental Army had been courting Beth these past two years...

Charlotte's agitation returned.

"I've been thinking, Beth."

"Yes, I could hear you from here," Beth replied. Charlotte ignored the quip as she strolled over to a chair and seated herself, arranging her silk skirts around her legs just so.

"Yes, I believe it might be time to leave Charleston," she said hesitantly and waited for the explosion. When Beth said nothing to contradict her, she continued, "I am not so certain that Charles Town is the place for us right now. Besides, I miss Drakespar."

Drakespar... Charlotte sighed wistfully. Although she loved Charles Town, she loved her country home even more. Besides, Drakespar Plantation was much nearer to Fresh Water Plantation than Charles Town was. Much closer to Benjamin... She smiled warmly and a glow spread through her stomach.

"If you think that is wise, Aunt," Beth said finally.

Charlotte's eyebrows climbed her forehead.

"No argument? I'm surprised at you, Beth. You fought your father ferociously to stay here four years ago."

"And I will miss it, for a certainty. But Gabriel will be gone now, he will leave with the army. Many of my friends will have to leave, their families are already planning their departure to their plantations. No, I do not believe Charles Town will be the same place now. I'll miss Cilla of course. And Mary. And Sarah. And Rebecca..." She smiled wistfully. "Though I suppose Uncle Mark will depart Charles Town also? Perhaps Cilla will be nearby after all."

Beth and her cousin Cilla had always been close but the past four years had strengthened their bond. They were more like sisters now. Their resemblance was strong also - people often mistook one for the other.

"No, Mark has made no mention of leaving for the Santee," Charlotte informed her. "But still, I believe it would be for the best. We will not leave right away, of course. It will take me some time to organise the departure, perhaps a week or two? That will give you plenty of time to spend with your friends - I suspect Mary will miss you most of all."

"Yes, it will be a sad leave taking."

"We'll have a farewell dinner," Charlotte smiled. "And invite all your friends and mine. We shall leave in style, you and I."

"Miss Martin!" A man shouted from the front door downstairs. Beth and Charlotte shared a startled glance as they heard the front door slam, then urgent, heavy footfalls thudding up the stairs.

"Is that Colonel Burwell?" Beth marked the page her book and placed it on the table before her.

"It sounds like it," Charlotte replied.

"Miss Martin," the panicked shout was closer now.

Beth rose from the chaise, straightening her hair and her silk skirts as she did so. She thought she did a fair imitation of her Aunt Charlotte who had also risen from her chair to greet their unexpected guest, polite and dignified as always.

"Miss Martin," Colonel Harry Burwell burst into the parlor. "Oh, thank the Lord, there you are. I went to your Uncle's house first... I couldn't find you." His sword clinked at his side as he strode across the chamber to stand before her. He reached for her hand and pressed his lips against the back of her fingers.

Beth had never seen the Colonel look so disheveled or distressed, even during the last harrowing days of the siege. His ordinarily immaculate Continental Bluecoat was creased and dirty, even his hair was coming loose from its queue, long strands framing his face in a messy array. Beth's breath caught with worry. He was always stolid and dependable! If he could be fearful now, she should be terrified!

"Colonel Burwell, what has happened?" Charlotte asked in a calm voice. Beth did not think anything could ruffle her Aunt. "Are the Redcoats in the streets already?"

"Mrs. Selton, please forgive me the intrusion," Burwell's voice was quieter now, almost back to normal as he addressed Charlotte. His fingers wound through Beth's, a strong grip that he clearly did not want to release. "As you are aware, Charles Town has fallen. The British are already coming into the township from the south side, there is very little time."

All eyes turned to the door as another man entered the parlor, equally winded. Burwell, in his haste to find Beth, had outrun the younger Corporal Gabriel Martin.

"Sir, there is not much time, we have to leave," Gabriel declared urgently. Beth sensed her brother was fighting for calm. "Beth, Aunt Charlotte, are you well?"

The women spared Gabriel a glance and a nod. It was Burwell, however, who held their attention.

"Another moment, Corporal. Mrs. Selton, we are leaving. I am escorting Governor Rutledge to safety. I have come to ask Miss Martin," Burwell cast a quick glance at Beth. "To come with me."

Charlotte's eyes widened, at a loss for words. Beth was just as stunned.

"Colonel, Benjamin entrusted Beth into my keeping. I can not, in good conscience, allow her to flee with the army with no more than her brother for a chaperone. Gabriel's duties will keep him away more often than not. An unmarried woman has no place in camp -"

"I am sorry to interrupt you, Mrs. Selton," he said abruptly. "I understand your concerns. Please hear mine. It is common knowledge that I have been courting Miss Martin these last two years. With so many Loyalist families remaining, it will only be a short time before the British discover my..." Burwell glanced at Beth, he was becoming panicked again, she noted. "...Affection for her. I fear they may try to use her against me. Clinton and Cornwallis are not above taking hostages to control the Patriots fighting against them. Miss Martin _must_ leave, for her safety."

"Yes, I couldn't agree more," Charlotte nodded gravely. "Beth and I were only just now discussing it. With respect, Colonel, I do not believe you are thinking clearly."

"No?" He asked incredulously. "Mrs. Selton - there is no time -"

"Sir," she over rode his protests firmly, with Gabriel and Beth watching anxiously. "You say you are escorting John Rutledge? I do not know much of these matters, but wouldn't that make you a target? You will be riding hard, I am certain, to put as much distance between you and the Redcoats as possible. I am sorry, but it simply will not do!"

Burwell opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and tightened his lips.

"Have no fear, Sir," Charlotte continued. "I have no intention of continuing to reside here. I will close my house and although it will take some time, we shall travel back to my plantation. Beth will accompany me."

"When? How long before you leave? Mrs. Selton, Miss Martin must leave now -"

"Surely_ Miss Martin_ should have a say in this?" Beth asked tartly, suddenly irritated with the both of them. Neither of them had thought to include _her_ in the discussion!

Burwell and Charlotte's eyes fell on Beth, both seeming so surprised that she had spoken, Beth wondered if they had forgotten she was there!

"Beth..." Gabriel murmured from the doorway.

"Perhaps not," Beth ignored her brother's warning. "The both of you are planning my future just fine without me, perhaps I should simply sit down," she suited her words by sitting on the chaise and arranging her skirts about her. She placed her hands in her lap. "And you can let me know what you have decided, when its all settled."

"Forgive me, Miss Martin," Colonel Harry Burwell, high ranking officer of the Continental Army and veteran of the French and Indian war, sounded suitably chastened. "Please know it comes from my great affection for you and concern for your welfare, that I speak so rashly. Could I have a moment of your time, Miss Martin? Alone."

"Yes, Sir, you may," Beth glanced at Charlotte, who nodded and swept from the room, taking Gabriel by the arm to lead him away.

The silence stretched. Burwell began to pace back and forth, his thumb stroking the sword at his waist. He spun to her and opened his mouth, seeming about to speak, then clicked it shut before pacing again. Finally, after taking a deep breath, Burwell strode forward and knelt before Beth, taking her small, soft hand in his. Beth's eyes almost bulged from their sockets.

"Miss Martin, will you marry me?" The words tumbled out in a rush. Although Beth knew it was coming, had known for some time now, she could not help feeling shocked to her core.

"Marry you...?" She breathed, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Beth, I am no great orator. I am a simple man, in my way. A simple soldier."

_And one of the most powerful, well respected men in the Colonies. As well as one of the wealthiest... _Beth's mind raced, thwart with indecision. _He is handsome... But he is so much older! Wouldn't it be like marrying my father? I do care for him and it is important I marry. There would be no greater match for me and my family... Oh Lord... What do I do?_

"But you must know by now that you have quite stolen my heart," he continued. "I have been widowed for such a long time now, I thought never to love again, until I met you. From the moment I saw you, our first meeting four years ago, I have loved you dearly. I know I have made mistakes along the way, but you must know I would never hurt you, nor would I treat you poorly."

"_You_ are no great orator?" She laughed down at him.

A chuckle escaped his lips, a release of tension, despite his panic and need to be away. "No, I am not. You bring out the best in me." His tone became serious again. "Beth, I was not exaggerating. It is going to become a very dangerous place for you here in Charles Town. Too many people are aware that I have courted you. The British would find the smallest excuse to seize you, and use you against me. They have done it before - it is a tactic that has served them well..." Finally words failed him. He shrugged his shoulders and breathed deeply in an effort to steady his nerves. "I _love_ you, Beth. Will you marry me?"

"You do love me?" Beth whispered. He had said so before, but gazing down at his earnest and open face now, she finally understood the depth of his feelings for her.

"Indeed I do," he said quietly. "I could not stand it - knowing you are here, under their very noses. Beth, if they took you... Lord, the very thought. I would give any concession to have you freed, of course. But I am answerable to a higher authority - it could very well be that you would languish in their possession. Washington would not authorise me to meet the demands that would see you freed. It places me in a compromising position - but it could all be avoided if you would simply come away with me now!"

"Colonel, I understand your concerns, I truly do," Beth said carefully.

Fear twisted her stomach, Burwell had painted a bleak picture for her indeed. Especially if he would not be allowed to meet the British demands to free her - how long would she be their prisoner? Would they place her in a cell? Would it affect Burwell's ability to continue his campaign?

Still, to steal away with him this very hour? A mad dash from Charles Town on the back of a horse, to live in tents for goodness knew how long? And with only her brother as chaperone? How long would it be before Burwell married her? Weeks, at best - the Banns had to be read after all. By then, Beth's reputation would be in tatters. Her virtue would be utterly destroyed!

All of this flashed through her mind in mere moments and Beth made her decision.

"Colonel, Aunt Charlotte and I will be leaving Charles Town shortly, we truly will," she assured him. "I will not linger, especially now I know the dangers. I am sorry, but I do not believe marriage is the answer. You are leaving this very moment, how could I possibly come with you? My maid is at my Uncle's home and I will not leave her behind. I have no dresses here, no belongings to speak of," once Beth began, more arguments against making such a rash move came to her. "How long will it be until we are married? No banns have been announced. My father is not here and while I am aware he approves of you what would he think of you spiriting me away? He would be furious! And I will _not_ be married without him to give me away," Beth shook her head adamantly. "I am sorry, Colonel, but I will not marry you all in a rush without my family present. Besides, what of my respectability? I have no desire to be shunned from polite society because of malicious gossip!"

Burwell bit his tongue on his protest and lowered his head to her lap with a groan. Beth smiled and stroked his hair tenderly, straightening the tangled mess back into its queue.

"Are you saying no, then?" His voice was muffled by her skirts.

"No, I am saying _not now_.. I _am_ fond of you, _very_ fond, and I do not mean to cause you pain by refusing you. However I can not accept a marriage proposal when I have doubts. And I do not want to rush into this just because the British have taken Charles Town and you must be away on the hour."

She heard him sigh as he nodded, accepting her answer.

"You truly will leave here, as soon you are able?"

"Yes, I _promise_ you I shall," Beth assured him.

"Thank you. I could not bear it, Beth, if something bad were to happen to you."

Beth smiled warmly and began to laugh.

"I couldn't bear it either if something _bad_ were to happen to me. I am not particularly brave, you know."

"Not brave..." Burwell snorted. "You are a lioness, dear heart."

"Colonel! We must go." Gabriel was in the doorway again, impatient and tense. His eyes widened at the scene before him, his Commanding Officer kneeling before his sister, their hands clasped in her lap. He had known Burwell would propose to Beth and hoped she would accept him. "Should we be celebrating, Sir?"

"No, not yet. Your sister is too sensible to marry me. And yes, we must be away," Burwell rose and helped Beth to her feet, he still held her hands as Gabriel disappeared through the door with a disappointed frown. His heavy boots thumped on the staircase as he ran down to the next level.

"Promise me you will stay safe." Burwell stroked Beth's cheek gently. He gazed at her intently, trying to memorize her features. It would be some time before he saw her again, of that he had no doubt.

"I promise, Colonel."

Burwell lowered his head to hers. Time seemed to slow for Beth, her breath caught in her throat as he gently brushed his lips across hers. Her first ever kiss and it was as much - no more - than she could have imagined. She closed her eyes and leaned into him as his lips moved across hers.

_No, it would not be like marrying my father... _She thought, before her mind ceased working altogether. Her heart began to race and her body grew warm from her stomach to her cheeks. Burwell tightened his hold on her, pulling her close and deepening the kiss. Just as Beth's knees began to feel weak, an urgent voice called up the stairs.

"Colonel!" Major Bryant shouted. "We have to leave, now!"

Burwell moaned against her lips and reluctantly broke the kiss. He drew back to gaze at Beth, then rested his forehead on hers.

"I love you, Beth," he whispered. "Please stay safe."

"I will," she said a little breathlessly. "You be careful out there, Harry. And write to me if you can."

"Harry..." Burwell's smile lit his face, making him appear years younger. "You've never called me that before..."

"Colonel!" The shout was even more insistent now.

"Yes!" Burwell's bellow could be heard clearly downstairs. "I know!"

After a last searching look and another powerful but quick kiss that left Beth gasping, Burwell released her.

"Walk with me to the door?" He asked. She nodded and wound her fingers through his. They made their way through the house, down the stairs, to the front door where Charlotte was waiting with many Bluecoat Officers. There were other goodbyes to be made, speedy through necessity. She embraced Peter Cuppin, a lad she had grown up with. Then it was Gabriel's turn. She threw her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

"Stay safe and write to me, if you can," Beth said against Gabriel's ear.

"I will, I promise. I have to go, Beth," Gabriel unwound his sisters arms from his neck and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She brushed back his blonde hair and stared into his brown eyes, the exact same shade as hers. They resembled each other more than any of their other siblings, both taking after their late mother.

He embraced Charlotte next while Burwell said his last farewell to Beth. He did not kiss her again, no in front of Charlotte.

"Goodbye," Gabriel said simply, then followed Burwell from the house.

Charlotte clutched Beth's hand in hers and the two women stood on the front porch waving goodbye as the small detachment of Continental soldiers left the yard.

"He asked me to marry him," Beth said quietly. Her arm was raised high, she was still waving as the men retreated down the street.

"I know. And what was your answer?"

"I said no. For now. I will come with you, when you leave Charles Town."

"Wise decision, niece," Charlotte smiled. "To think! What a scandal it would have been, you rushing off in a whirlwind and marrying Burwell. What would your father say?"

"That's one of the reason's I gave Harry," Beth confide. "Though in truth, I daresay he would have been very pleased - he wants me to marry Burwell, remember?"

With a sigh, both women turned back into the house and closed the door behind them.


	2. Chapter 2 - Handsome Lieutenant Colone

**Chapter Two - Handsome Lieutenant Colonels**

"Ban!" Major George Hanger shouted, drawing the young Lieutenant Colonel's attention. Hanger had his saber raised high and sliced it down in a swift arc. He severed a Bluecoat arm off at the elbow and the wounded Continental screamed with agony and shock. There were more Continental's darting in behind the first and Hanger was already hard pressed to keep them back.

"To Hanger!" Banastre screamed and lunged his horse toward the Major, his saber flashed in the early morning light as he swung it down indiscriminately. The fight was over in moments, Hangers life was saved. Not so for the Continentals who had dared to defy them. Some lay groaning on the ground but most of them were perfectly still, their eyes unseeing.

Panting to catch his breath, Banastre whirled his horse around to search for more opposition but there was none close by. There was more fighting further along the street but clearly, the Continentals were in retreat and Charles Town was theirs. Of course, it had been theirs as soon as Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington led his Green Dragoons on a night time raid on Moncks Corner - a damned gutsy move that. Luckily for William, Moncks Corner had turned out to be only lightly guarded and it been a simple matter for the Officer to swoop in and crush resistance.

With Moncks Corner taken, it had only been a matter of time before Charles Town fell. Barely two weeks, as it turned out.

"Come," Banastre called to Hanger. "Let us go to this Assembly Hall. Clinton summoned us a half hour ago."

"Indeed he did!" Hanger called back, edging his horse closer to his commander. "The sooner we get Clinton out of the way, the sooner we can find our lodgings. I am in a need of a bath and my clothes," he glanced down at his Redcoat with distaste - it was covered in dirt and grime and blood. "Definitely need laundering."

Banastre nodded gravely, sharing Hanger's concerns. "A bath, clean clothes, a warm bed. I think I have quite forgotten how those luxuries feel."

Hanger raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Hmm?" Banastre asked.

"A bath, clean clothes and..?" Hanger prompted. "I think you've left something out there, old friend of mine. Something that comes before the 'warm bed'."

"Or something that _comes_ in the 'warm bed'," Banastre smirked lewdly at his clever innuendo. "Yes, yes - priorities, I know."

"There are many gaming houses along here, none of them seem too worse for wear after the siege. I say we get ourselves settled, bathed, changed and then... A card game!"

"And a woman," Banastre nodded in the affirmative. "But first, Clinton."

"Ah yes, I'd almost forgotten," Hanger quipped. The two Officers gathered the remainder of their unit and made their way through Charles Town to the Assembly Hall, Sir Henry Clinton's new Offices of Administration.

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Banastre rode down the narrow street with Hanger at his side. The two Officers were followed by several others of Banastre's unit, all of whom were to be quartered with him. He glanced down at the parchment in his hand, guiding his horse with his knees.

"Number eighteen," he said, glancing up to see the number on the house he was passing.

"Hmm, ten... We have a way to go yet," Hanger observed. The continued their slow way, not in any particular rush despite their need for a bath, clean clothes and a warm woman to grace their beds. It was early yet.

The streets were filled with people. The fighting had stopped hours ago and the British had cleared away the dead and wounded. There were still some signs of the battle but mostly on the outskirts of the township. Certainly not here - in Tradd St. While the local's gazed nervously and whispered to one another as the troop passed, one would not have thought a pitched battle had been fought here at all!

"Well, well well," Hanger murmured in a tone that Banastre recognized. He glanced at the Major and saw his eyes were warm indeed. Following his line of sight, Banastre saw instantly what had drawn Hanger's attention. "Now, if only we were billeted here!"

Number 12, Banastre saw. They were only halfway to their billet. While the house was large and very expensive seeming, Banastre knew it was not the reason for Hanger's instant attention. It was the two women standing just behind the wrought iron gate, watching the Officers watching them. One was older than the other but both were equally beautiful. Both with blonde hair intricately worked and neatly covered with their hats. One with blue eyes, the other with brown. A deep, dark brown, Banastre saw as he drew closer. Much like the shade of his own eyes...

Their silks skirts and the manor house behind them spoke volumes to Banastre, these two women were wealthy indeed. Husbands? Perhaps they were off fighting, but Banastre hoped not. He hoped fervently that these two were unattached, for he would be billeted only a few doors down and he found he was very desirous of their... Acquaintance. Especially that of the smaller, younger woman. He eyed her up then down, his eyes meeting hers as the distance between them grew smaller.

She brushed at her skirts nervously. Because of his attention, perhaps? He gave her a very warm smile and she blinked with surprise. He would be past them soon and because he wished to make a good first impression on such a lovely young Lady, he stopped his horse only a few yards from her. Her eyes widened with astonishment but he merely smiled deeply, pulled his leather, fur crested helmet from his head and bowed deeply from the saddle. She blushed crimson.

"Good afternoon," he called down to her. "Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton at your service."

He paused deliberately, allowing her time to take his cue and introduce herself.

"Ah... Miss Elizabeth Martin," she said nervously. "I mean... Beth... Ah, Beth Martin."

He found her flustering to be quite charming and relished the fact he was the cause of it.

"It is my supreme pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Martin," he said warmly. He turned his gaze to the older woman and saw her disapproving expression - not quite a scowl. She was clearly too well bred to scowl. He waited again, leaving her no choice but to introduce herself - to do otherwise would be impolite.

"Mrs. Charlotte Selton," she said frostily.

Banastre felt a movement beside him and glanced over at Hanger, noting his friend's disappointment. The Major had had his eye on Charlotte, she had been the cause for his spoken 'well, well, well'. To discover she was a married woman was a blow, a definite and disappointing blow.

"Do you need directions, Sir?" Charlotte asked in that same tone, prompting him to state his business and move on. Banastre turned back to her and nodded, but it was the young woman who he addressed.

"Miss Martin, I wonder, could you please tell me where..." He held out the the scrap of parchment, hoping she would reach for it - perhaps their fingers would touch, perhaps -

Keeping her hands resolutely to her sides, Beth leaned forward to read the address. She glanced up at him with a perplexed frown.

"Ah, Sir - number eighteen is... That way," she said slowly as though addressing a simpleton. Well, perhaps she had every reason to believe him a dolt, if she thought he could not find his way along a simple, narrow street. She pointed in a northerly direction. "Six houses down."

"Thank you. Do you live here, Miss Martin?" Banastre asked and Beth paused, shooting a quick glance at the older woman. Of course. Banastre was being far too forward. He had been too forward from the moment he laid eyes on her, if the truth be told. He was making her uncomfortable. Still, there was something about her that made him reckless. "I merely ask because I wish to become acquainted with the..." a deliberate pause and a significant smile, "area and the local customs. Perhaps I can call on you sometime?"

"My niece does not live here," Charlotte stated firmly, understanding it was Beth he wished to be acquainted with, not the area or the customs. She placed her hands on Beth's shoulders and turned her. She continued to speak as they walked along the path to the manor house. "She lives with my brother... _Elsewhere_. If it is a guide you need, you should speak with Mr. Simms or Mr. Wilkins. I am certain they will make themselves known to you and they will be able to help you find a more... _Appropriate_ guide."

The last was said from the porch. Beth had enough time to stare both Banastre and her Aunt with bemusement before Charlotte closed the door in the Officer's faces.

::

"Married!" Hanger bemoaned as they continued on down the street.

"And the other one doesn't live here!" Banastre was just as mournful.

"Ah, well, Charles Town will be much like the rest of the Colonies, I'm certain," Hanger continued, regaining his good cheer. "Filled with beautiful women."

"And far more willing than Mrs. Selton," Banastre feigned a shiver. "Lord, she was cold!"

"I would have liked to warm her," Hanger laughed. "And that other little filly, though it's her Aunt who held my attention."

"Are you blind? The younger was much the prettier," Banastre shot back.

"I guess beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder," Hanger said loftily. "I prefer maturity, myself."

The two debated which was the more beautiful of the two all the way to number eighteen, where they finally stopped.

"Home sweet home," Hanger said as he dismounted and gazed at the large manor house with longing.

"Indeed, shall we?" Banastre asked. He dismounted, tossed his reins to a waiting slave. He entered the house and without preamble took charge of the manor and its occupants.

::::

_Sir,_

_As you are no doubt aware, resistance would be in vain. To prevent any further bloodshed I am prepared to make the following offers, the like of which will never be repeated. If you stand and fight, you will be faced with my full force, upwards of seven hundred light cavalry, half that number again of infantry with canon. Earl Cornwallis is en-route with nine British battalions._

_I warn you strongly against further impedance. If you offer you the following conditions, the meeting of which will prevent certain battle. _

_1st. All of your Officers are to be prisoners of war but they will be offered parole. If they try to flee they will suffer harsh and certain punishment._

_2nd. All other Continentals are to proceed to Chapin. Rest assured, they will be provided with the same provisions of our British troopers until they are exchanged._

_3rd. All of your militiamen are to be paroled to their homesteads._

_4th. All arms, artillery, ammunition, stores, provisions, wagons, horses, etc, to be faithfully delivered._

_5th. All your Officers will be allowed their private baggage and horses and their side arms will be returned._

_I expect an an answer to my generous proposals as soon as possible. If you are rash enough to reject them, the blood be on your head._

_I have the honor to be_

_Will. Tavington_

_Lieutenant Colonel, Commandant of the British Legion._

::

Burwell tightened his fist, crushing the letter in his fingers. He gazed at his Officers, searching for their resolve and was met with stares of determination.

"No surrender," Gabriel murmured, though he was only a Corporal and the decision was far from being his. By rights, he should not have spoken at all, surrounded as he was by his superiors. The Corporal had served under Burwell for four years, however and had saved many lives, shown such courage and commitment that a little leeway was allowed to him.

Especially at moments such as these, where Gabriel was merely voicing the thoughts of every Officer in the command tent.

"No surrender," Burwell agreed. "Governor Rutledge, we must get you away. If you are in agreement, I suggest a small force of twenty or so to deliver you safely to North Carolina."

"Sir, I am in agreement," the Governor said firmly.

"You will need to travel light, I'm afraid. No baggage. If it is not destroyed in the coming battle it will be sent on to you," Burwell paused. "If I am able to do so, that is."

"Understood," Rutledge replied heavily. He rose to his feet and addressed the council tent at large, giving the Continental's a stirring speech about sacrifice and Independence. The twenty strong escort was chosen and Rutledge was away. Burwell sent his reply to the British Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Tavington, who was positioned so close they could see the enemies campfires.

_Sir, I reject your proposals, and shall defend myself to the last extremity. I have the honor to be, etc._

_Harry Burwell, Colonel_

:::

"So be it," Tavington screwed the missive up in a tight fist and threw it to the ground. He turned his horse and called for his adjutant, Captain Richard Bordon. "Call the advance," he commanded coldly.

The Cavalry and infantry of the British Legion began to move forward toward the Continental lines, pulling their canons into position. Shortly later, the battle commenced.

:::::::::::::

Tavington strode through the lines of wounded. The stench of blood and shit hit him like a blow. The battle had been fierce, shocking, even to the hardened Lieutenant Colonel. It had been made more ferocious when Tavington himself had gone down, unseated from his horse. His men, his loyal and faithful men, had gone wild, thinking him killed.

It had been at least fifteen minutes before he could get the troop under control and by then they wrought so much damage, dealt out so much death - it had been a massacre, pure and simple. Grumbling had already begun from the Continental Officers he had caught, accusations that they, the Continentals had tried to surrender, and the Dragoons had continued their slaughter.

This was not true, of course. As soon as Tavington learned they were calling for surrender, he had stopped the battle. Perhaps the message had taken a while to come to him, but he certainly had not continued to fight them, once their desire for surrender was known to him.

In an attempt so ease the mounting tension, Tavington declared is intention to have the Continental wounded with as much care as his own British. Some of the grumbling quieted, but he could see the Continental Officers were hardly mollified. Ordinarily he would not care, but a battle such as the one he had just fought could destroy his career unless he behaved as a Gentleman afterward.

"Bordon," he called to his Captain, who wound his way through the wounded on the ground and approached quickly.

"Sir!"

"Where is Doctor Jones? I sent for him ten minutes ago!" Tavington snapped crisply. "I want these damned Continentals tended to before they begin dying on me!"

"Sir, he will not come." Bordon replied. Tavington stiffened and the Captain waited for the explosion.

"I beg your pardon?" Tavington asked dangerously. He was in a foul mood, he always was after battle. Especially after this battle - which had been going perfectly - better than he could have hoped for - until he was unhorsed and it all went to Hell. He had won, but it was a question of honor now and Tavington detested having his honor questioned.

He would be blamed personally if the Continentals he'd promised would be shown care, began dying on him for lack of medical attention.

"He said he was there to tend the British, not a bunch of rebels."

"Did he now?" Tavington tightened his lips, his pale eyes glittered with rage. He nodded curtly and turned on his heel, marching toward the medical tents. Bordon followed smartly, catching up to the raging Colonel quickly. Tavington ducked into the tent.

He stopped dead to take stock. He ignored the moans of the wounded and the hustle and bustle of the medical Officers, his gaze searching for Doctor Jones through the throng of corpsmen.

Tavington was not lacking in medical staff. He had at least ten fully qualified doctors and another twenty corpsmen, medics who fought as soldiers then cared for the wounded afterward. Ordinarily, if a troop was short of medical staff after battle, their own wounded were always tended first. But that was not the case now - Jones had no reason to prioritize their own before the Continentals. Besides, even if they were not short of staff, Jones had disobeyed a direct order from his superior, Lieutenant colonel Tavington.

And that was something Tavington would not - _could_ not - allow to slide.

He slowly and pulled his leather, fur crested helmet from his head and strode deeper into the tent. His cold gaze fixed on doctor Jones. The doctor's sleeves were pulled up past his shoulders and his hands and arms were covered with blood. The other doctors and corpsmen within the tent were likewise gored with the blood of the wounded. They continued their work, too busy to pay Tavington's sudden entrance any mind.

"Doctor," Tavington drawled quietly when he reached the man. His calm tone belied his rage. "I have requested your assistance with the Continental captives. Why are you still here?"

"I will see to the rebels when I have finished with our own," the doctor snapped unwisely. He did not even look up from the man he was tending on the gurney. "And not a moment before."

Jones held his hand out to an assisting corpsman. "Pass me that scalpel." The corpsman did so and Jones continued to work, ignoring Tavington entirely.

Tavington watched this and quietly seethed. "You will see to them now," he said finally, dangerously.

"Our own men lay dying! I will not abandon them!" Jones cried, finally turning to face Tavington in outrage.

Tavington's patience snapped. With one swift motion he jerked his pistol from its holder and cocked it, siting it point blank between Jones eyes. The other occupants of the tent stared with shock, their patients forgotten for the time being. The only one in the tent who was not surprised, was Captain Richard Bordon.

"You will obey my command or I will shoot you for insubordination where you stand."

Tavington's pronouncement was delivered coldly, with deadly intent. Tavington meant it and Doctor Jones knew it. He stared down the barrel of the pistol then his wide eyes raised to meet Tavington's. William glared unblinking at the Doctor, his hold on the pistol steady and sure, ready to fire if Jones did not answer the command to Tavington's satisfaction.

"Very well, Sir," Jones said, finally finding his voice. "I shall go and tend them at once."

Tavington lowered his pistol and returned it to its holster.

"Wise decision," he ground out. He took a single, threatening step closer to impart some much needful advice. "I suggest you _never_ disobey my command again."

"No, Sir! I will not." Jones stammered fearfully. He wiped the blood from his arms as best he could with a strip of linen, though all he succeed in doing was smearing the gore further, then he fled from the tent as quickly as his long legs could carry him.

The remaining doctors and corpsmen exchanged eloquent glances before returning to the work. The tent became a hive of activity again as the Officers moved around the gurneys, doctors calling for needed implements.

"You put the fear of Christ into him," Bordon pinioned. The Officer turned and began winding his way through the medic team and duck out of the tent. He caught sight of Doctor Jones further along the avenue, rushing to assist the Continentals.

"I will not have my authority questioned," Tavington said brutally at Bordon's side. "He should have known better."

"No doubt he does," Bordon paused. "_Now_. What do you plan to do with the Continentals?"

It had surprised him, that Tavington would go to such efforts to have them tended. He had come to understand Tavington's motives earlier when the Commander began venting his rage over the necessity. His conduct as a Gentleman after such a messy battle was of paramount importance, if he wished to continue moving up in the ranks.

He, Tavington, hoped to make his field commission of Lieutenant Colonel made official. Technically, Tavington held the rank of Major and would remain so unless his application to the War Office was accepted.

"They are to be sent on to Chapin, those who survive," Tavington said now. "Cornwallis will, I would imagine, try to turn them. Offer them amnesty if they chose to fight for us. Beyond that, I neither know nor care what happens to them."

::::

For the next two weeks, Tavington led his Legion after fleeing pockets of resistance. Most of the Continental army, including Colonel Burwell, fled toward the borders of North Carolina, leaving the militiamen under Francis Marion to do their best to secure region.

The days were long, the nights even longer. Tavington spent much of his free time lamenting both Govenor Rutledge and Colonel Burwell's escapes - both men would have made prime hostages. Either would have been enough for Clinton to shout Tavington's accolades, offering him further distinction. However, it was not to be.

Finally, toward the end of May, Tavington received the word he had most wished to receive. Sir Henry Clinton was recalling him to Charles Town to reequip and, Tavington hoped, for a much needed rest.


	3. Chapter 3 - First Meetings

**Chapter Three - First Meetings**

Hot and sticky, Banastre decided, was the best way to describe summer in South Carolina. It was already hot and sticky, though being the beginning of June, summer had only just begun. Banastre sighed as he trotted quickly down the steps in front of the Assembly Hall.

"And why so great a sigh, Banastre?" William asked at his side. Though he had only been back in Charles Town a few short days, he was already looking much healthier - filled out and rested. And that was despite the last few nights of carousing the Officers had indulged in.

"It is already hot and it's only the start of Summer, William. It is all down hill from here!" Banastre was merely complaining for complaining sake, he was in a foul mood since learning - not five minutes ago - that he was about to be dispatched back toward New York. If truth be told, he preferred a Summer campaign over a Winter one. While he did his duty without question, slogging his way through storms and sometimes even snow, was not his favorite pastime. But he did not want to go back so bloody New York!

"You think so?" William asked. "I would have thought you would be pleased. Summer in Charles Town means balls, late nights gambling, women... The opportunities are endless..."

"Yes, but we will not be in Charles Town for long, will we? Back to New York for me and the Santee for you."

"Ah, so that is the cause of your disagreeable mood. I wondered." William said briskly as they began to stride along the street.

"Well, aren't you annoyed? I was hoping to stay in Charles Town for a little while."

"And indeed you shall, my friend," William said brightly. "For two weeks at least."

"The dust has not even settled and we are to be sent away again," Banastre said mournfully.

"What are you talking about, Ban?" William laughed. "You have been here for two weeks already. I am the one who has only just arrived. I should be complaining, not you."

Banastre sighed again.

"I suppose this problem of yours is that little 'Miss What's her Name' you keep prating about," Tavington scoffed.

"Little _Miss Beth Martin_, if you please," Banastre replied primly. "And if you must know, I certainly do find it quite distressing. After that first day of speaking to her, I've not had another opportunity to do more than tip my damned helmet in greeting. Her family seem to be keeping her under lock and key, the only times I see her are the brief occasions when I happen across her in the street or at a shop."

"Ah," William began to laugh. "Yes, I understand it finally. I was wondering how you could be so infatuated after such a brief acquaintance. 'The heart always wants more what the heart can not have'."

"Do you have any more quotes for me?" Banastre ground out. "'Absence makes the heart grow fonder', perhaps?"

"'No fool like an old fool'?" William quipped.

"Who are you calling old?" Banastre snorted. "You have four years on me."

"And therefore you should listen to your elders," William laughed. "There are plenty of young lovelies in the Colonies, Ban. Plenty of them wear silk skirts. Plenty of them have golden hair and eyes like a..." Tavington paused as though searching his memory. "Did you say, _doe_?"

"And here it is, the plaguing," Banastre twisted his lips with displeasure. "I had hoped the sweet Lord would send me my good friend, instead the Devil has sent me... _You_."

William laughed again. It felt good to be back in polite society, Banastre at his side, the sun shining on his back, no enemies to fight, a soft bed to sleep in and a beautiful woman to warm him. All of these combined made his spirits quite high indeed. Besides, Banastre deserved this ribbing - he has spoken non stop of this girl that Tavington had yet to meet.

It had surprised him no end that Banastre could fall prey to a pretty face so easily and he had wanted to get to the root cause. He finally understood - Banastre always desired what he could not have. Unique pistols. Ornately hilted sabers. The fastest, most athletic horse. If the owners of which would not sell or if he could not win them through gambling, he only coveted the item even more. Women were no exception to the rule.

It was only natural, William conceded, he was the same. All men were, he suspected. Especially when women were the prize. He slapped Banastre on the back with commiseration, a sign that he would tease his friend over the young lovely no further.

"So... The Butcher," Banastre quipped. He eyed William up and down, then said finally, "it suits you."

"Yes, these Carolinians are quite inventive, though I admit I had not expected the name to stick so quickly." He had earned it two weeks ago when Colonel Burwell refused his terms and his force entered into battle. Tavington had been unhorsed and his loyal men went wild, believing him killed. The bloodshed had been excessive to say the least, hence Tavington's new appellation, 'The Butcher'.

Banastre laughed. "Well, I know how jealous you've been of me, how covetous you've been for these Colonialist to give you your own pet name."

"Oh, I have, I have," William smirked. "I've _dreamed_ of an epithet to match yours. _Bloody Ban_."

"Thus are we loved by these Colonialists, our brethren," Banastre quipped.

"I think you should be pleased - Bloody Ban certainly suits you!"

"Because of my red hair? It's auburn, not _quite_ the color of blood," Banastre replied aloofly. His red hair was _far_ from the reason behind being coined 'Bloody Ban'. The Patriots amongst the Colonialists often accused him of ignoring men who called for quarter, battling until the last man was down even if the man was calling for surrender. Tavington had developed the same reputation, to be sure. It was entirely untrue, of course but Banastre felt the epithet made his reputation more fierce, instilling fear amongst the populace. If they feared him, they would not defy him. Or such was his way of thinking.

The two men fell silent as their long legs carried them along the street over looking the Square. Many Colonials stopped to watch them pass by, they each cut a fine figure. Tarleton in his short Green coat with gold buttons, snug fitting tan buckskin breeches. Tavington in his Redcoat with green trim, snug fitting black buckskin breeches. Their black leather boots where shined until they gleamed and their sabers swung slightly at the hip.

"It is pretty, isn't it? A lovely town." Banastre gazed at the Square as they walked along. It sported a lovely garden with winding paths and a large expanse of green grass where one could sit and enjoy the view over looking the harbor. There was always entertainment - someone playing music and in the evenings it was well lit with firebrands - perfect for a lovers walk.

Its many large oaks were perfect places for one to sit and enjoy a picnic in the shade with friends. Banastre's eyes fell on a group of youngsters doing just that, sitting on a large blanket in a rough circle and laughing as they enjoyed the warm weather. He stopped suddenly when one of the group who had been reclining sat up and raised her arms over her head in a languid stretch. A beautiful woman with liquid brown eyes and blonde hair, wearing a white hat with a brown ribbon.

"Little Miss Beth Martin," Banastre sighed warmly. "And not a single member of her family in sight!"

"Where?" Tavington glanced around until he caught sight of the woman. He knew instantly which Banastre meant, for his friend had described the young Lady too many times to count over the last couple of days. "Ah, I see. And yes, quite the beauty."

"Indeed. And as I said, not a family member to be seen. No one to spirit her away before I can so much as smile at her. Shall we?"

"Banastre, We've been in council all morning!" Tavington protested, half heartedly. He was intrigued and quite willing to be introduced to the woman who had so captured his companions attention. "I'm half starved!"

"As am I, William. As am I," Banastre began to stride forward toward the group, a chuckling William catching him up quickly. It was clear that Banastre was not starving for _food_ just then.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Beth reclined on the blanket with three of her closest friends, Mary Tisdale, Colin Ferguson and Rebecca Middleton. Cilla had been unable to accompany them for their picnic and Sarah Wilkins, the last of the small group, was spending the morning with her family.

"Do you find that you miss him?" Mary asked as she fanned herself. The heat was growing more oppressive by the day - they were in for a stifling Summer, she suspected. "Colonel Burwell?"

The four youths were sitting in a rough circle under the shade of two large White Oak trees.

As her arm was getting tired supporting her, Beth sat up and stretched, stifling a yawn. She rested with her back to the broad tree. The gentle wind stirred the branches, the leaves rustled and sighed above her. The birds whistling over their heads added to the peace and tranquility.

"Yes, I do," she admitted finally. "He has been such a big part of my life these past two years and I will probably marry him eventually. Every time I hear the sound of a horse outside or heavy foot falls on the stairs I can't help but think its Burwell, but then I remember he is gone... Two whole weeks now."

"It has gone surprisingly fast, the Continentals leave and Redcoats move in..."

"And life goes on," Colin looked across the Square toward the damaged buildings, scaffolding had already been erected and men were working hard with the reparations. "At least they are repairing the buildings and the other damage."

The dull thuds of their hammering seemed far away and did not break the peace of the day.

"I can't help but think of the people that have been jailed though, Edward Rutledge!" Mary was wide eyed and held her hand to her throat. "A relation of yours Becky, in jail!"

"I know, it is horrible. My Aunt Henrietta is beside herself with worry. I feel horrible for my little cousins. Though only Henry is old enough to have some small understanding of where his father is, he just turned five you know. Little Edward is only two but he keeps asking for 'Papa'. It is heartbreaking. And I have to admit, I keep worrying that they will arrest us and we'll end up in jail also for the crime of being a Middleton! But father seems to get along with Clinton - Papa has always been the odd one out of the family, the only Loyalist... I think we'll be alright."

"I worry too, Harry was in such a state the last day I saw him, if he could be so alarmed over the Redcoats attempting to take me captive, then I should be _terrified_!"

"He is usually such a calm force even under great strain," Colin agreed. "Don't worry, Beth. You will be gone soon. How go the preparations?" Colin Ferguson was an old friend of Beth's, having grown up on a neighboring farm on the Santee.

"Aunt Charlotte says another two weeks and we will be gone from here. I wish it were sooner, each time I attend a picnic or a dance with Redcoats attending... I feel like it is all going to come out and I'll be arrested, taken hostage on the spot."

"Its not as bad as all that, Beth," Colin barked a laugh. "I doubt they'd arrest you, they don't have the grounds for it now, do they?"

"They arrested my Aunt's husband quickly enough!" Rebecca's eyes opened wide with the injustice of it all.

"Becky, dearest, he is a Rutledge. He is a Patriot and one of the signatories for the Declaration of Independence," Mary said gently. "That makes all the difference"

"Yeh, Beth is hardly as important as all that," Colin quipped.

"I am so important!" Beth laughed. "Perhaps I would not fear it so much if Uncle Mark was clearly not so worried. You should see them - as soon as he, or Aunt Charlotte, so much as spy that Banastre fellow, they usher me away faster than I can say 'alligator pie'."

"Oh, Banastre Tarleton," Rebecca said dreamily. "I've seen him a few times as well though I've not met him yet. He is so handsome."

"Hmm, I suppose he is," Beth shrugged.

"What do you think Mary?" Colin quipped. "Are your dreams filled with Banastre Tarleton?"

"No, you goose," Mary laughed. "I've yet to meet the fellow myself. Though I have, unfortunately, met Lieutenant Colonel Tavington."

"Oh, they are calling _him_ the Butcher!" Rebecca whispered. "He is billeted in your home now, isn't he? I'd almost forgotten."

"I wish I could forget. He is so demanding - and cold! I don't like him at all. I think I'd prefer Tarleton, he sounds charming."

"He sounds like a flirt," Colin scoffed. Beth had told him, in detail, of her first encounter with the British Officer.

"Oh, my dear Lord!" Beth suddenly hissed. "Speak of the Devil and the Devil will appear!"

Her brown eyes where wide as she watched the men approach.

"Beth, it is fine." Colin noticed her discomfort "Ladies, do not mention Burwell. Or Gabriel, for that matter."

_It's hard to imagine him taking me hostage... _She thought as Tarleton, and another - taller - Officer drew nearer. _ He's always been friendly enough, tipping his helmet as he passed me by. You're merely allowing Uncle Mark's nerves to infect you. Get a hold of yourself!_

:::::::::

William studied the woman carefully as he approached. He already had a mistress, of course, although he had only been in Charles Town a short time. However, it was always entertaining, vying with Banastre for a ladies affections. They had made a sport of it in London and the Lord knew they had very little opportunity to practice their sport here in the Colonies. Their duties always took precedence.

Banastre, having been William's close companion for a very long time, knew instantly what the other man was about. He saw the speculative way Tavington was eyeing the young woman with a small smile of anticipation playing around the corners of his mouth.

**_My_**_ young woman_! Banastre thought with a silent growl.

"William, hands off!" he ground out.

William gave Banastre a slow smile, then turned his blue eyed gaze back to the young woman.

Then Banastre was turning back. He swept his helmet from his head and offered them a flourishing bow. He addressed Beth directly - the only youth that was known to him in the group. "Miss Martin, what a pleasure it is to meet you again."

"Thank you, Sir," Beth replied nervously. And then, because the strict strictures of polite society demanded it and indeed, Banastre seemed to waiting, she asked courteously, "would you and your friend care to join us, Sir?"

"Well, we would not want to impose," he smiled charmingly at the other youths.

"Not at all, Sir," the only young man in the group declared. Banastre and William both dismissed him as competition, for a young woman was sitting by his side, close enough to almost be in his lap.

Surprisingly, William bowed to her. "Miss Tisdale, it is a lovely day for it, I must say."

"That it is, Sir," the woman replied with her eyes lowered.

"Will you join us then?" Beth asked. She wondered who the other Officer was, for Mary to show such meekness. Banastre tilted his head as he regarded her.

"If you insist," his smiled broadly. "I can think of no where else I would rather be."

She watched him as he and the other Officer circled the group, clearly intending to sit by her.

"May the best man win." William whispered to Banastre

"The best man will!" Banastre grated back. Both men took up a position on either side of Beth, sitting on the blanket with their legs stretched before them.


	4. Chapter 4 - Discoveries

**Chapter Four: Discoveries**

"You have not introduced your friend, Sir," Beth eyed the stranger sitting to her left a little warily.

"Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington, at your service," William drawled, taking hold of her hand and kissing the back of her gloved fingers.

Beth felt the blood drain from her face and she stared at him wide eyed, her heart pounding. This was Tavington, The Butcher. The man Gabriel wrote her to about in his letters. The man who had, only two weeks before, done his level best to take Colonel Burwell hostage.

"It... The... The pleasure is mine," Beth said faintly. She swallowed and turned her gaze to Colin and Mary, hoping they would fill in the void and give her time to recover.

Colin, who knew Beth as well as a sister, stepped in cleanly, providing the remaining introductions.

"Colin Ferguson, Sir," he said to both Officers. He addressed Tarleton. "And this is Miss Mary Tisdale - who Lieutenant Colonel Tavington is billeted with. I don't believe either of you have met Miss Rebecca Middleton?"

"Ah, Miss Middleton!" Banastre gave her a small, seated bow. "I've heard much about you, your father mentions you often."

"Of course, I had quite forgotten that you would have met Papa," Rebecca replied. "He is mightily pleased to have the British in Charles Town finally - we barely see him anymore. I'm certain he will become one of Sir Clinton's Aides soon."

"I believe he already is," Banastre replied. "He is quickly making himself indispensable. He wants your brothers - twins, aren't they? To join the cavalry."

"Oh, yes, Marcus and Michael - they are twins. And they would make fine cavalrymen, I think," Rebecca smiled proudly.

"I hope you bought your appetite with you, Sirs," Colin said, pulling the basket closer and opening it. "We have plenty to share. The girls always complain that I pack too much food," he glanced at the girls with teasing eyes. "You know, the two of you came in the knick of time - I was about to drown in talk of dresses and ribbons."

"Ah, yes, dresses and ribbons," Banastre adjusted his sabre at this waist in order to sit more comfortably. He had Beth to one side and Rebecca to the other. Looking over Beth's head, he caught William's gaze. The other Officer was frowning at Beth suspiciously, clearly wondering why she had become so quiet. She was staring at her hands and seemed almost fearful, ever since Tavington had introduced himself. Banastre continued, "with the ball coming up this Friday, I imagine most young women will be speaking of aught else. Will you be attending, Miss Martin?"

Beth raised her head and nodded with a weak smile. Both men were close enough to brush her knees with theirs. She tried to make herself smaller, feeling oppressed and hemmed in by Burwell's enemies. She could feel their eyes on her, making her feel even more nervous.

**_Get a hold of yourself._**_ You are making them suspicious of you! Smile and do as Colin said, act normal..._

"I heard you only just arrived to Charles Town, Sir," Colin was asking Tavington. "You'll be attending the ball, then?"

"Yes, it will be a nice diversion from the war, my Officers are looking forward to it." William began pulling his gloves off, one finger at a time. He placed them on the grass beside him before reclining back on one elbow, bringing him even closer to Beth.

"Mine are also," Banastre agreed, his eyes settled on Beth again.

Beth leaned forward and began unpacking the fully laden picnic hamper while the men spoke quietly. She let the conversation wash over her as she fought to settle her nerves.

There were fresh sandwiches and fruit, cheeses and crackers, small delicate cakes and scones.

By the time she began handing the plates around, she had recovered much of her equilibrium.

"Ah, yes, American Horses. An exceptional breed, we managed to capture quite a few of them when we raided Moncks Corner." Tavington was saying.

"Have you thought about joining the Loyalist militia, Mr. Ferguson?" Banastre was asking "You seem to know your horses."

"I, ah..." Colin shot an uncomfortable glance at Mary. "Yes, actually, Sir. I've thought about it."

"Colin!" Mary was horrified. "You've not mentioned this to me."

"Well, I have not decided yet."

"James Wilkins has been in your ear, hasn't he?" Beth asked, finally finding her voice. She handed Colin a plate. "I knew it."

"He speaks sense, Beth. Mary, darling. I was going to speak to you about it, but... as I said I have not decided anything yet, don't worry."

"Nothing is decided... That is small comfort, Colin!"

Beth and Colin exchanged another glance as Mary stared at her hands, clearly shaken over the news her beau might be leaving. Beth tried to think of a way to turn the conversation, but everything seemed like forbidden territory now with the two British Officers sitting with them.

"We could use a good man like you, Ferguson," Tavington said. "I have quite a few Loyalists, most of my Green Dragoons are Colonials. We are always looking for more. How well do you handle a pistol?"

Mary seemed ready to weep which enraged Beth. She felt the Officer was being _incredibly_ insensitive toward her friend.

"If you are done _recruiting_, Sir," Beth spoke without thinking. She shoved a plate toward him and William sat up quickly to avoid having the pie on the plate dumped in his lap. "Colin's cook is a wonder when it comes to making these little pies."

"Thank you, Miss Martin."

As he took the plate he deliberately touched her fingers with his, a lingering soft touch. He held her gaze with a warm smile and she flushed.

"Colin is absolutely useless when it comes to firing pistols, Sir," she said a little breathlessly.

_Lord, has anyone mentioned how handsome he is, when they've spoken about him? Those eyes... Such a pale blue._ She swallowed and tried pulled her eyes away from Tavington's gaze.

"Beth!" Colin fired up in protest. It was not true, what she had said, not one little bit. And Beth damned well knew it!

"He would not make a decent Dragoon, not at all," she continued in a stronger voice. "I do not think you should try and take him into your ranks."

"How can you say that! Have you forgotten the summer - how old where we, fourteen? How many rabbits did I kill?"

"Not half as many as me and I was using a sling shot and stones. No, you simply would not make a decent soldier, do not try."

Mary finally lifted her head and smiled brightly. "That's right! Colin, listen to Beth, she has known you longer than any of us..."

"I suspect your women do not wish to lose you, Mr. Ferguson." Tavington murmured with a slight smirk.

"Oh, I see..." Colin blew out a sharp breath as he realised finally what Beth had been about. "Nice try, _Miss Martin_. But no, you will not discredit me. You know fully well that all I have to do is fire a shot or two and these Officers here will know my worth."

"Discredit you?" Beth raised her eyebrows and smiled innocently. "I would never."

"You caught rabbits with a _sling shot_?" Banastre asked before taking a small bite of a sandwich. "Good Lord, the women of this country never cease to amaze me."

"Only Beth, Sir. I do not know of any other girls along the Santee that grew up as wild as you, Beth."

"I can't be blamed for that! I did not want to go hunting, you all but dragged me from my lessons each and every time."

"Dragged you," Colin scoffed. "Listen to yourself, would you? You just don't want Miss Middleton to know how wild you were before your Aunt smoothed all your edges."

"Oh, hush," Beth giggled. "I was not so bad as that. It was fun though... Do you remember when the raccoon burst out of the bushes? You nearly dirtied your breeches."

Rebecca's giggle was high with astonishment at Beth's lack of propriety.

"Do _you_ remember when we came across Peter Cuppin, swimming in the creek in his skin and I had to drag you away because you were hoping you'd get to see his -"

"Colin Ferguson!" Beth shrilled. "That is _not true_!"

Colin clutched at his stomach as he laughed. On either side of her, Tavington and Tarleton chuckled, clearly amused.

"How about a nice glass of cordial?" Beth offered up quickly, blushing crimson. "And if you keep telling that particular part of the tale, Colin my dear, I will tip the jug over your head."

"Very ladylike. Your Aunt has worked wonders on you, I see." Colin's eyes where bright with amusement.

"Remarkable. It is a pity you will not let your friend tell the rest of that tale, Miss Martin. I would like to know exactly what you did when you saw the boy in the creek," Banastre teased and William chuckled again on Beth's other side.

"Nothing! I did nothing. Colin is prone to exaggeration, it is a failure of his - one of his many. A gentleman, Sir, would help me change the subject, right about now."

"A gentleman will, Miss Martin," William held his glass as Beth poured him some of the berry cordial. "Pistols."

"Oh, no... Not back to recruiting..." Beth rolled her eyes, she found her nerves disappearing, thanks to Colin's teasing.

"No, I was merely wondering if you can fire one? Seeing that you are so proficient with a sling." William's eyes were bright as he watched her reaction. Firing pistols was a very unladylike pursuit.

"Ah..." Beth glanced at Rebecca. "A lady would say no, wouldn't she?"

"Hmm hmmm," her friend affirmed.

"Then no, Sir," Beth said, clearly lying. "I have _never_ fired a pistol."

"Something tells me not to believe you," William reclined again and idly toyed with the brown ribbon on Beth's hat, which now lay on the grass near his hand. "What of you Miss Middleton? Miss Tisdale?"

"Certainly not!" Both women replied in unison.

"No, Sir," Rebecca continued. "I've not been hunting a day in my life."

"I'd like to see how you would survive in the woods, were you stranded without a man to protect you. Beth would be fine, even with the last four years of living in Charles Town making her soft."

"Mr. Ferguson, I assure you I do not intend to become stranded in the woods," Rebecca arched her eyebrows at Colin. "I intend to stay right here in Charles Town and attend balls and shop for lovely material for pretty dresses."

"And ribbons..." Beth laughed. "Did you hear that Madam Veissielle has some new silks from London? You should go and view them."

"Come with me - we'll have a look tomorrow. Not that we'll have time for a new dress to be made from _her_ silks in time for the ball on Friday."

_I suppose I can go and have a look at least. Though Madam Veissielle would not have time to make me a dress before I leave Charles Town, I could take the fabrics with me..._

"Oh, your family should host the next ball, Becky. That would be a fine thing - I've always thought the parties your family host are simply the best." Mary's eyes were bright at the prospect, her earlier worry over Colin joining the Green Dragoons forgotten for now.

"You grew up along the Santee, then?" William asked Beth quietly as Mary and Rebecca continued to chat about the parties the Middleton's had hosted in the past.

"Yes, Sir. Is it really so obvious..?"

"Well, your accent is slightly different to the other ladies here, you have the sound of the back country on your tongue."

"Is that a polite way of telling me I sound like a country bumpkin?" Beth arched an eyebrow. She found it incredible, sitting between these two Officers, chatting on the sunny afternoon. She wondered how different they would behave if Harry was sitting with them. She tried to picture and it could not. If Burwell had been there, there would be an exchange of insults and the possibly a fight as one tried to take the other hostage.

"Not at all," William smiled. "Besides, it is not as strong as some I've heard. I'm to be stationed along the Santee myself soon, with Lord Cornwallis. It's beautiful out there, with the plantations and manor houses. The large open paddocks..."

Beth smiled warmly, "that it is. You're making me homesick, Sir."

"If I lived out there, I'd find every reason to stay. I'd rarely come to Charles Town."

"Truly?" Beth raised her eyebrows with surprise.

William smiled and nodded. He knew he had her, in that moment. The way her brown eyes lingered on his face, her attraction to him was undeniable. Poor Banastre... William almost chuckled at the thought. What an easy conquest she would make. An idea began to form in is mind but he kept it on a simmer. For now.

"Yes, it turns out our Colonel Tavington is a country lad at heart, Miss Martin," Banastre said, joining their conversation. "Despite being raised in the hustling and busy town of Liverpool."

Beth leaned back against the tree again, putting herself slightly behind them - the better to see both Officers while they spoke. "What of you Colonel Tarleton? Is it the city for you?" She pulled her cupcake apart to take small, delicate bites.

"Oh yes, I couldn't stand to be in all that open space for too long."

"You couldn't stand to be away from the gambling tables do too long, you mean," William scoffed.

"Oh, you don't gamble, do you?" Beth drew her knees up to the chest and arranged her skirts around her, careful to not get icing from her cupcake on the expensive silk.

"No... Not much..." Tarleton coughed delicately. He shot William a scowl for revealing his weakness to the young woman. The truth was, Banastre was a prolific gambler and owed money left, right and centre. He was constantly writing to his mother to send him money to pay for his debts. She recently wrote him back to inform him that while she was happy to send him new shirts and a barrel of wine, there would be no more money from her. He would have to either stop gambling or pay his own debts.

"No, not much at all!" Tavington smirked. "He does not drink either..."

"How long have you been in Charles Town?" Tarleton said swiftly, a clear attempt to change the subject. "If you grew up on the Santee?"

"Four years. My father allowed me to stay with my Aunt, after she convinced him I needed a woman's influence."

"She didn't approve of you running through the woods, spying on naked boys, toting pistols and shooting rabbits with slingshots?" William teased with a small smile and Beth's heart skipped a beat.

"I didn't spy on him," she protested breathlessly. She was finding it increasingly difficult to pull her gaze away from him. Her eyes seemed to want to linger on his face, taking in every feature. A warm flush bloomed on her cheeks and she felt like cursing - she was damned well making a fool of herself. She finally managed to drag her eyes away as he continued speaking in that slow, quiet drawl of his. "Where is your mother, surely she could provide that 'women's influence'?"

Her breath caught and grief welled in her, hot and searing. Seven years since her mother had past and it was still painful to think about, much less talk about.

William instantly knew he said the wrong thing as Beth's smile fled, she drew in on herself and looked away.

"She passed away six and a half years ago in child bed," she murmured quietly and swallowed.

Tavington sensed it was still raw for her, losing her mother. He had been relieved, when his father passed away. Still, he if he could use it as a way to connect with her...

"My father passed away also, some eight years ago, now."

"Oh, I am sorry," she said, turning to him with commiseration, a grief shared.

"Tragic thing, to lose a parent," Banastre's tone was sincere. "Though my mother always says it would be even more tragic to outlive us."

"Us? Do you come from a large family? I'm one of eight, myself."

"Good Lord! Your parents where rabbits! I'm one of five and Tavington here, is one of four."

Beth continued to chat quietly with the two Lieutenant Colonels, asking them questions of their lives in order to keep them asking too much about her. She tried to keep her attention on Banastre, he was safer for her. Her heart raced at Tavington's smiles, her breath quickened each time her eyes met his. She did not like the effect he had on her. Worse yet, he seemed to be well aware of it, his smiles where entirely too _knowing_ for her liking.

No, Tarleton was definitely safer. However, when he realized he had her attention, he began to flirt outrageously. He compared her eyes to dark limpid pools reflecting midnight. He told her her hair resembled spun gold. He took her by the hand. He grew bolder by the moment, drawing off one of her long silk gloves and exclaiming over how soft and smooth was her skin.

William was unwilling to allow Banastre have all the attention - especially the holding of the girls hand! He took hold of her hand to decide for himself.

Only Tavington held her hand for far too long. He caught and held her gaze, then deliberately began to gently caress is fingers over hers. Beth's lips parted and she drew in a ragged breath. She found that, for the life of her, she could not draw her hand away from his. She began to breath heavily and his smile deepened, enjoying himself immensely. As if taking pity on her, he finally released her hand.

Her body felt as flushed from his touch as it had when Burwell had given her her first kiss.

Discomfort turned to annoyance. She was beginning to sense he was playing some terrible trick on her, to flirt with her so - he was taking it far further than Banastre, whose smoking looks didn't sear her to the bone. Refusing to be the butt of Tavington's joke, Beth deliberately turned her back on him.

William's eyes widened as he was suddenly gazing at the back of her head. Sitting up abruptly, he glanced at Beth's friends to see if they noticed, feeling unaccountably embarrassed. They were still absorbed in their talk, though they had moved on to gossip about some other friends of theirs. Beth had not moved, though he was sitting close enough that she should have felt him change position. She laughed gaily at something Banastre said and William scowled with displeasure.

He had come on too strong, he conceded. But her attraction toward him had been unmistakable and it had amused him to have her so bothered. He had not counted on her strong will, however.

"I simply can not decide which of you is the more beautiful for surely, how can you compare three sunrises?" Banastre announced of Beth and Rebecca. It was clear to Tavington, however, that Banastre thought Beth the more beautiful, the way he gazed at her.

Rebecca blushed but Beth, who had finally recovered, snorted with derision.

"Good Lord. I wonder Sir, how many women have you caught with _that_ one?" She began to laugh as Banastre put on his most earnest expression.

"You doubt my sincerity!" He cried with dismay.

"No, not your _sincerity_. Rebecca I agree, is quite beautiful," Beth quipped. "I merely wonder how many times you've used that line before?"

"I am wounded, Miss Martin," Banastre leaned back, eyes wide open as he held his hands to his chest. "I assure you I have never made the observation before, the two of you are the most beautiful of creatures."

"Colonel Tavington," Beth asked, finally turning to him. He noted that she did not allow her eyes to linger on his as she had earlier. "Surely you will tell us, how many women has Tarleton here managed to charm with his flirtations?"

Tavington smiled. "You have it completely wrong, Miss Martin, Colonel Tarleton is being quite sincere and I agree whole heartedly - two of the most beautiful sunrises indeed." Surely she would not take his comment amiss and turn away from him again, she was laughing now, after all.

"Good Lord, what flirts you _both_ are," Beth sniggered. "There must be broken hearts all across the Americas. Colin, dear heart, are you taking notes?"

"Do you think I need to? I can flirt with the best of them."

"Truly? _I've_ not noticed."

"You have far too many brothers, Beth and a father who'd kill me."

"Oh?" Mary said tartly. "So if not for Beth's brothers, you'd be flirting with her?"

Beth began to giggle as Colin rushed to reassure his sweetheart that only she held his affections.

"No, Mary! Dear heart, that is not what I meant."

"Tsk tsk, Colin," Beth smirked. "I've tried to tell you before, you should never try and be clever."

"Oh, I think he is sweet." Rebecca's eyes were open wide as she gazed at Tarleton adoringly.

"And I think he has missed his calling," Beth turned to Tarleton again. "You, Sir, should have been an actor."

"Funny you should say that, Miss Martin," William put his empty plate down and reclined on one arm again. Beth no longer had her back to him, she was paying equal attention to him and Banastre once more. "Our Banastre has a great love for the stage and has acted quite a few times. He was even staging jousting contests right here in the Colonies, with John Andre and a few other Officers. They became the 'Knights of the Burning Mountain'."

"Oh, that reminds me," Beth said to Banastre. "You know, I never had a chance to tease you, Sir."

"About?" Tarleton quirked an eyebrow, wondering exactly what the girl had found amusing enough about him that she would tease him over it.

"You name!" Beth laughed with delight. "Banastre. I do hope that is a family name - or is your mother particularly cruel?"

"And what, pray tell, is wrong with Banastre?" Tareleton was pleased the girl felt comfortable enough to tease and joke so soon.

"Nothing... Nothing at all... _Banastre_."

"My own dearest mother named me for her father, Banastre Parker." Tarleton breathed a tragic sigh. "And the newspapers back home had a Devil of a time spelling it correctly!"

"Oh, spelling your name wrong! That is terrible!" Rebecca commiserated. "But it is wonderful that they write of you!"

"Yes, indeed. I'm considered a hero back home apparently, though I do not like to boast. William is also, but he is not so well loved as I."

William rolled his eyes.

"So," Beth said, "Sir Banastre Tarleton, Knight of the Burning Mountain. I am not surprised to hear you have acted, Sir. What of you, Colonel Tavington? Have you joined your friend on the stage?"

William snorted. "No, Miss Martin. Certainly not. I have, however, indulged in the jousting when Ban has twisted my arm."

"What fun, I would love to watch a jousting contest," Rebecca clapped her hands with delight. "Will you have one here in Charles Town?"

"Hmmm, it would not be a bad idea," Tarleton was excited at the prospect already. "We could stage it right there." He pointed at the long street that ran along the Square. "But only if you lovely ladies promise to attend. Every Knight needs a beautiful young maiden to watch him joust and give him her favor at the end, a silk handkerchief or the like, when he wins."

"One event at a time, if you please," Mary said. "We still have the ball on Friday, and that is taking all our attention."

Just then, Rebecca spied another young woman approaching the group. Miss Claire Bryant, one of the few amongst Beth's peers who she had never been able to warm to.

"Ah, Beth, you might want to consider leaving right about now," Rebecca's eyes where bright with mischief.

"Why?" Beth glanced over Mary's shoulder to see Claire making her way toward them.

"Ah, drat." Beth moaned.

"Strong words," William mocked. "With so many brothers, I would have thought you could come up with something a little more... Colorful."

"I would, Sir. I am trying to behave as lady and not a bumpkin, remember?"

"Friend of yours?" Banastre's voice was thick with amusement.

"Not exactly..."

"Be polite, Beth." Mary's voice was stern.

"Mary! I always am! Or I try to be... She is the hateful one."

"Good morning everyone," Claire, in pink and white silks, swooped in to join the group.

"Care to sit with us?" Mary asked politely. "There is still some left."

"Oh thank you Mary. Well, well! There are still some sweets left! That is a surprise with Beth here..."

Banastre tittered behind his hand. "Meow," he whispered to Beth.

"Yes, she is a pretty kitten but she comes with claws," Beth giggled. She leaned back against the tree again, again slightly behind the two Colonel's, resolving to not say another word while Claire was with them.

"Have you met Lieutenant Colonel Tavington and Lieutenant Colonel Tarleton, Claire? Gentleman, this is Miss Claire Bryant."

The Officers greeted her politely.

"Oh, it is so good to meet you both," Claire folded her legs beneath herself as she sat across from Beth, getting herself comfortable on the soft grass. Beth sighed, knowing the woman was not going to leave any time soon. "I've heard so much about you. You'll be going to the ball on Friday, won't you?"

"Indeed we shall be, Miss Bryant." Tarleton nodded.

"Did you hear? There may be fireworks. Just a rumor, of course, but it would be a fine thing!" Claire took her hat off and pulled a fan out of her pocket to wave slowly before her face.

"Do you think it is true then? The Simms have put out those rumors before and we have been so very disappointed." Mary asked.

"No, I think they will do it this time - the ball is in Sir Clinton's honor after all. The Simms will not stint, I am sure of it."

"Be fair, ladies. They did not stint last time, the fireworks did not arrive in time, it was not their fault." Beth rolled her eyes as she defended the Simms family. "Sarah Wilkins told me all about it, Therese Simms was most embarrassed."

"Hmm. I call it bad planning, myself," Rebecca sat up straight. "It is all in the details, everything must be organized just so and it will come together perfectly."

"Perhaps the Simms should have enlisted your help, Becky," Beth laughed.

"What are you going to wear, Beth?" Claire looked her rival up and down with condescension. "Left to your own devices, you will will end up in a ball gown a decade out of fashion and made of cotton."

"No, Claire, I assure you I have had a lovely new gown made." Beth tried to be cordial, tried to keep the edge from her voice. "And it is all silk."

"Oh, by who? Madam Compay, no doubt." Claire waved her hand in dismissal.

"No, dear. Madam Veissielle." Beth held back a laugh at Claire's look of astonishment.

Madam Veissielle usually only catered to the greater families, the Simms, Middleton's, Rutledge's and other leading families. For her to make a dress for Beth was quite a compliment, an honor. And it reminded Claire how wealthy Beth's family truly was. Beth usually did not care for such things, but it was amusing all the same.

"Speaking of the ball, Miss Martin," William said from where he lay beside her. "Would you do me the honor of dancing a few sets with me?"

Beth's eyes threatened to pop out of her head as she stared down at Tavington. She could not speak for a moment, her breath had failed her.

"Ah... Yes, certainly," she said eventually. "That would be wonderful."

"And with me, Miss Martin?" Banastre asked. Beth turned toward toward Tarleton. "I am a much more proficient dancer than Tavington. I have heard women complain after dancing with him - he steps on their feet more often than not!"

Tavington snorted.

"Yes, of course," Beth's heart pounded in her chest and her face felt hot.

"Well," Claire's voice was filled with envy.

Beth turned to Claire with sudden fear, her eyes where open and pleading, she knew what was coming.

"It seems you are still quite popular with the Colonel's, Beth. Nothing has changed there, even with Burwell's departure."

_Lord, she did it. It was going so well... We've managed to make it this far without mentioning him. I was even beginning to enjoy myself, to forget the threat... But she did it. God, now they'll know. _Beth pulled her eyes away from Claire's, dropped her gaze to her lap.

"Colonel Burwell?" Banastre broke the oppressive silence.

William's eyes widened. He pinned her with a suddenly piercing gaze.

"Yes, he was courting her for the past four years, wasn't he, Beth?" Claire continued her poison, blithely unaware of how great a damage she was doing. "Before the Continentals were ousted from Charles Town, of course."

Beth wished she could remain silent, wished she could simply disappear.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Long Walk Home

**Chapter Five - The Long Walk Home**

"It was hardly four years, Claire," Beth said quietly. She hoped Claire would hear her silent plea and leave it be. "He was not very serious about it, in any case."

"Not serious? I would call a marriage proposal fairly serious." Claire snapped her fan shut with a loud click.

Time slowed. Beth's vision narrowed to pinpoints, the darkness threatened to pull her under. The blood drained from her face, she was completely white and her hands were trembling. This was exactly what Burwell had warned her about, exactly what he had feared.

Tavington sat up abruptly, going on point like a blood hound. Even Tarleton tensed beside her. Both men stared at her intently, she felt like a mouse being stalked by two large cats of green and red.

"Good Lord, Miss Bryant. You have always been prone to exaggeration," Colin snapped. "Colonel Burwell was not the only one courting Beth these last two years and his was not the only marriage proposal either."

Beth remained silent, unsure if Colin's attempt to down play her connection to Burwell would be enough to divert the suddenly alert British Officers.

"Are you engaged then, Miss Martin?" Banastre posed the question gently and Beth met his gaze nervously. "To Colonel Harry Burwell?"

"No, Sir," she said quietly. Feeling every bit the traitor to Harry and their friendship, she continued, "I refused him. He is an old widower looking for a young wife. I can not imagine that the marriage would be a happy one."

She almost choked on her words as she said them, she wished Burwell were there so she could beg his forgiveness. She believed she would someday marry him and it almost killed her to speak of their union with such disrespect.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Claire open her mouth to argue. Colin shot her a hard glare and Claire snapped her mouth shut uncertainly.

William remained silent, allowing Banastre to do the talking. It was a tactic they had adopted long since. William was no diplomat, he spoke what came to his mind and was often too heavy handed. Banastre, however, had a much gentler nature. Not always, he could be as explosive as Tavington. However, as long as he was not too enraged, he excelled in the art of subtlety. People thought they could relax with him, often learning their mistake only when it was too late. Tavington would watch and listen, and he did so now.

Burwell would be a prize indeed - if he was to be caught. Tavington had tried during the skirmish two weeks ago, but the enemy Colonel had slipped through his fingers like smoke, along with Governor John Rutledge. He had been searching for a weakness for a long time now. Unfortunately, Burwell only had two sons - grown men, serving with the Continentals. Neither man was married, there were no grandchildren. No weakness to be exploited there. His manor house and plantation were in Raleigh, in Patriot occupied North Carolina and well out of Tavington's reach. No sister's, his parents were deceased. The man had seemed impregnable to breech on a personal level.

Until now. William studied Beth carefully, wondering if he had stumbled across the key to Colonel Harry Burwell's weakness at last. Banastre obviously wondered the same.

"He courted you for two years?" He was asking now.

"He did, along with two others." She said, trying to make their liaison seem less significant. Banastre was not to be diverted, however.

"How did you meet him?" He pressed her.

_You don't have to answer these questions! They have no right! _Beth began to steel her spine, but one look at Lieutenant Colonel Tavington, his eyes cold and intent, dissuaded her. _Yes... I do_.

"At the Assembly Hall. It was the last night the Assembly convened, they met to discuss South Carolina's participation in the war."

"I would not have imagined you would be interested in politics, Miss Martin," Banastre frowned. "How old were you then - sixteen? Why would you sit in on such a council meeting?"

Beth reeled, it was getting worse and worse! Rutledge, a former Assemblyman, was in jail! His brother the Governor had had to flee the county, was currently continuing his work in North Carolina. She tried to think of where the other Patriot Assemblymen were and realized to her chagrin that most of them had, indeed fled.

"Miss Martin?" Banastre prompted, sensing a deeper mystery. Her answer caught him utterly by surprise.

"My father was an Assemblyman," she said reluctantly. "He had been called to Charles Town to attend the meeting and cast a vote."

"Did he now?" Banastre asked softly. "An Assemblyman. You are full of surprises Miss Martin. Where does Burwell fit into this?"

Oh, sweet Lord above. Beth happened to catch Claire's eyes, she was half expecting to see the girl gloating and boastful. Claire, however, was staring wide eyed with shock at what she had wrought. Still not truly understanding that she had wrought _anything_! Though she sensed the mood had changed and had become quite dangerous indeed. Furthermore, their other friends glared at her, Claire seemed to wither under their gazes.

_Yes, you little chit, _Beth was so angry and frightened all at once, she felt like weeping._ You did this, this is all because of you_.

"My father," Beth breathed. "Is... An acquaintance of Burwell's. He introduced us."

"Your father, an Assemblyman, knows Colonel Burwell personally? They must be close indeed for your father to feel free to present his daughter to such a prominent man as the Colonel."

Beth closed her eyes. It shocked her how deeply Banastre could read into what she was leaving unsaid - she had mistaken him as little more than a flirt.

"Is he a Patriot then?"

"My father," Beth opened her eyes finally. She caught his gaze then pulled her eyes away to stare at her hands, limp in her lap. "My father is a Patriot," she confirmed. "But he voted against the levy - he did not wish to go to war against Britain."

"A Patriot voting against the levy?" Banastre said skeptically. "That in itself is an extraordinary thing indeed. I am surprised to hear it."

"It's true, Sir," Colin put in, speaking up for the first time. "Mr. Martin came under fire for his stance, was called coward along with other things. But he held firm and voted the same as the many Loyalists present that day."

"I see, thank you Mr. Ferguson."

Tarleton was thoughtful as he gazed at Beth.

She glanced at him, trying to determine his thoughts, when she saw his eyes flick toward his fellow Colonel. Suddenly suspicious, she began to wonder if the two were working together to unsettle her. She abruptly realised that Tavington had been watching her, studying her as closely as he would an insect while - Tarleton threw his questions at her. She knew in that moment that Tavington was the true danger, he would decide her fate.

"You think I'm lying to you?" Beth asked Banastre now, her fire returning.

"Not at all -"

"Yes, you do!" She accused. Color returned to her cheeks, her anger giving her heart.

"Miss Martin, was your father in favor of the match between you and Burwell?" Banastre asked, ignoring her outburst. He thought he could quell her, have her unsettled again if he persisted with his questions. But Beth was having no more. Consequences or no consequences. She was no door mat and she would not allow these fellows to treat her as such. What was the worst that could happen? She would be put into a cell? So be it. This would end now, she would call the Officers down for their manipulation of her.

"No, Lieutenant Colonel Tarleton, I will suffer no more of this," she said firmly and Banastre's eyes opened wide with astonishment. She ignored him, addressing Tavington instead. His gaze was still cold and piercing, searching for her every secret. Beth held his gaze, too angry to be fearful. She would not bend to their will.

_A brave lioness._ Burwell's words gave her heart.

"Do you have any other questions, Colonel Tavington?" She asked tartly. His eyes widened slightly, Beth ignored his surprise. "What I ate for breakfast, perhaps?"

"Miss Martin," he said coolly. "Any connection to Colonel Burwell must be treated with utmost seriousness."

"I am certain," she snapped. "But the two of you have treated me quite ill, frightening and manipulating me as you have."

Beth leaned forward, fixing her stern unblinking stare on Tavington. She was close enough to feel his clean, warm breath on her face. He tightened his lips and lilted his chin haughtily. She doubted many dared to confront him.

"For shame! You listen to me carefully now, Sir. I will _not_ be treated this way by you again - nor from your cohort," her voice was firm, filled with pride. "You've not the right! As for Burwell. He courted me. He proposed to me. He was rejected. Now, unless you're planning on taking me into custody for further interrogating, I pray you will excuse me. I've quite lost my appetite for your company."

Tavington's eyes crept open wider and wider with shock with every word Beth spoke. Finally, she picked up her hat and she rose to her feet. She threw Claire a withering glare and the girl recoiled and hung her head. Rebecca and Mary both made to rise but Beth waved them down.

"Thank you for the picnic, Colin. I will see you all another time," she raised her skirts to her ankles and stepped over Tavington's legs as though they were nothing more than a tree trunk.

"Farewell, Beth," her friends called as she began to stride away.

She did not get far before the two Colonel's rose and trotted the short distance to catch up to her. Again, one on either side of her. She stopped dead and glared at both of them in turn, her face carved from ice. Expecting to be seized by them and dragged off to the jail cells, she was startled when Tavington offered her his arm.

"Perhaps I can walk with you, Miss Martin?" He asked her. She stared with incredulity, almost spluttering. Ignoring his arm, she continued to stride forward.

"That will not be necessary, Sir," she snapped.

"I will join you, also," Tarleton said nonplussed.

Beth gritted her teeth with frustration. There was nothing she could do to stop them, however, short of shouting at them both. And she was afraid they had already caused a scene - many other Charles Town socialites had turned to gaze at them curiously.

"As you wish," she ground out, striding with purpose, her skirts swishing about her legs.

Beth began the long trek to her Uncle's house with her unwanted chaperones.

_What will Burwell say if he ever learns of this? _She raged to herself. _He loves me and I have spoken disrespectfully of him. To his enemies!_

She strode briskly, in silence. She stared directly ahead, not turning to acknowledge her companions though she could feel their eyes on her, sensed their astonishment.

_Did they think I would have no back bone?_ She almost laughed as she remembered Burwell's words again. _"You are a lioness, dear heart." _Perhaps he would get enjoyment out of hearing this story, after all. Especially when she regaled him with the part where she called the Officers down for their behavior toward her.

Banastre tried to break the silence first. "Have you always lived with your Uncle, Miss Martin? Since being in Charles Town, that is."

Beth tightened her lips. The last thing she wanted to just then was speak to either of them, she was too damned angry! Her fists curled at her sides and still Banastre awaited her reply. Aunt Charlotte's four years of training asserted itself - one must always practice poise even under the most strenuous of circumstances. Be the reed in the wind. Bend - but do not break. She finally understood what her Aunt had meant by those words.

Charlotte advised one must always remain cool, allow others to know you will not be pushed over, but always be polite. Never lose your temper in public.

Besides, her point had been made.

"No, I have not always lived with him," her voice was still crisp and cool and she still kept her gaze averted, keeping her eyes resolutely on the path before her. "I lived with my Aunt Charlotte for the first two years."

"Why did you move?"

"To be closer to my cousin Cilla, we are the same age."

Banastre fell silent. It was clear that Beth would provide short answers only, not giving him much for him to latch on to, to further the discussion. William was no help, he wore a small smile, seeming amused by the whole affair. Banastre wanted to punch him - if Beth noticed the smile she would probably fire up all over again! What a temper!

He gazed at her, feeling surprised all over again.

They were not alone on the street, many others were out walking or riding past in carriages or on horseback. Some waved at Beth and she waved back.

"Afternoon Miss Martin!" One man called.

"Afternoon, Mr. Flansing," she nodded back and continued walking.

Quite the little socialite, Banastre decided. Every single person who greeted her wore expressions of bemusement or outright shock on their faces. It seemed Burwell's courtship of the girl had not been a secret one, for her acquaintances to look with such shock to see her flanked by two Redcoats. That would not be a good conversation starter however. Banastre decided he needed to keep the talk away from Burwell, to avoid further conflict with the girl.

He tried again.

"How old are you, Miss Martin? I estimated twenty - was I correct?"

"I will be twenty soon," she said shortly. And, because she understood he was trying to draw her out, she finally relented. She softened her tone, striving to return to her normal self. "Though it is rude to ask a woman her age, Sir."

_Ah, there we are,_ Banastre smiled. _She's calmed herself. Sweet Lord, just wait until I tell Hanger - what a temper! _

"I quite agree. Very rude," William spoke up for the first time. "That is a failing of Ban's I'm afraid, Miss Martin, one of his many."

"Shut it, William," Banastre said lightly. They stopped at a crossroads and had to wait a brief time for a carriage to pass by. As they began to walk again, Banastre took Beth by the arm to steer her around a steaming pile of horse leavings.

"One of _his_ many?" Beth said archly to Tavington when they were across the street. "I suspect _you_ have a few also." Beth could not keep the tartness out of her voice. She met his gaze steadily and waited for a stern rebuke but he merely gazed back, amused. "How long have you known one another?" She asked, swallowing her irritation.

"Too long." Banastre replied.

"About six years, I would say," added William.

"We met when our respective father's died and we both retired to London," Banastre supplied. _To spend our respective inheritances! Oh, those were the days. _

"He followed me all the way from England when I bought my commission and volunteered to serve here in the Colonies." William shot a smile at Banastre over Beth's head.

"Followed..." Banastre scoffed. "I believe I was the one who joined first. If anyone followed, it was you."

"Why did you join the army, Sir?" Beth asked him.

"I needed an occupation and I found Law not to my liking. I am the younger brother and as such, will not inherit the family fortune. I have to find my own way. As most second sons in my predicament, I chose to make my living from the army. I never dreamed I'd take to it so well as I have, like a duck to water."

"Nor I," William agreed. "Like a fish to swimming."

"A bird to flying."

A voice called out from behind them, cutting short the Officer's quotes.

"Lieutenant Colonel Tarleton!" An under Officer was trotting toward them and he saluted both Commandants. "You are needed at the Assembly Hall at once, Sir." He announced, trying to catch his breath.

Tarleton nodded curtly at the Officer and looked down at Beth. She was not that much shorter - he was not a tall man, was Banastre. "I'm sorry, Miss Martin. I will not be able to escort you after all."

"I quite understand, Sir."

_Damn and blast it - I'd rather be alone with Tarleton than Tavington, if I must be alone with either!_

"Never fear, I will escort Miss Martin the rest of the way," Tavington promised. He offered his arm to Beth and her temper had cooled enough by now to accept it. She placed her fingers lightly at his elbow but he took hold of her hand, guiding her to link her arm through properly.

Tarleton looked rather forlorn and resigned. He gave Beth a flourishing bow and placed a light kiss on her hand.

"Might I visit you sometime, Miss Martin?" He asked, as he started to walk away.

"Yes, Sir." Beth did not relish the idea of a visit from Tarleton, despite her cooled temper, but it would have been rude to refuse him.

He smiled brightly, turned and quickly strode away in the direction of the Assembly Hall.

"I wonder what that was about?" Beth mused for want of anything else to say. She and Tavington continued down the narrow street. She tried to walk at the same pace but Tavington held her back. She cast him a startled glance and he smiled down at her warmly. He wished to walk the rest of the way at a slow crawl, it seemed. She tightened her lips with frustration, but let him lead her.

"Who cares?" William replied loftily. "I have you all to myself, at last."

Her breath caught and her heart began to pound. It took a moment but she managed to seek solace in irritation.

"And why would you wish to be alone with me?" She asked. She was vexed more at herself than him, her reaction to him was simply too strong, especially for a man she had only just met. "To continue the questioning, I suppose."

"You are quite fiery, aren't you, Miss Martin?" William chuckled. He was still astonished at her temerity in standing up to him back at the Square. Astonished and quite amused.

"Something tells me you are, also." Beth sniffed. "Can't we walk any faster?"

"Hmm, I have been so accused, from time to time." William mused, then answered the second part of her question. "And no - I am enjoying the view."

His eyes were on her, not on the tree lined street - clearly, she _was_ the view.

"So," he ventured, his amused tone thick with condescension. "A marriage proposal from Colonel Burwell?"

"I _knew_ there would be more questions!" Beth bristled and snatched her arm from his. She whirled to confront him, even waggling her finger under his nose. "It is _none_ of your business, Sir!"

"Now, now... temper, Miss Martin," Tavington's voice was quiet but cool, his eyes narrowed as he considered her. "Lets not argue in public, hmm?"

Other passersby had slowed to watch, they made quite the spectacle to be sure, with Beth damned near bristling like a cat. She breathed deeply and stared at him with challenge.

"Come, Miss Martin," he said gently, taking her hand and winding it through his arm again. "Shall we?"

"He is a good man," she protested softly as they began to walk again. "I see no reason for you to be amused."

"So why did you reject him, if he is such a 'good man'?" William was careful to keep his voice neutral this time, leaving her with no cause to be offended.

Beth shrugged, at a loss. She would accept Burwell, eventually. What reason could she give to Tavington now, that he would believe? The most important thing, she decided, was to have Tavington walk away believing that Burwell did not care for her. He needed to believe that she held no true value to the Colonel, beyond being a pretty ornament to take to balls. That way, they would believe it a waste of time to take her hostage. This was her opportunity and if she played her cards right, then perhaps she would have nothing to fear for the duration she was in Charles Town. Two weeks, perhaps...

"I want what Colin and Mary have, I guess," Beth said now. Which was true enough. What she did not reveal was that she felt quite strongly that Burwell could give her what Colin and Mary have. "They are deeply in love."

William quirked an eyebrow and Beth rushed on, blushing crimson.

"Don't laugh at me, Sir. I am sensible to how marriage matches are made. A woman brings a dowry. A man brings land and, if he is wealthy, business associations. My father, I admit, was looking forward to furthering connections through Burwell. Papa owns a plantation, as I've mentioned. This would have given him an opportunity to broaden his horizons, sell to a whole new market. Perhaps the two would have gone into business together, as father in law and son in law so often do. And that is the crux of it, you see?"

William did not laugh at her romantic notions - he had two sisters and they both said the same as Beth. They wanted to marry for love, but were realistic enough to know they would be marrying to mutual advantage. He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

"A marriage made to strengthen alliances and broaden business contacts. Hardly romantic..." Beth trailed off a moment. She couldn't believe how wily she was being, threading so much truth into her words, making the lie sound convincing. Tavington would believe the marriage was an arranged affair with no emotional attachment whatsoever.

"But our world is built on such alliances, Miss Martin," he argued. It was what wives were for, after all. Men fell in love with mistresses, not wives.

"To be sure," Beth agreed. "But occasionally, the two can fall in love. My own father made a very good match with my mother, they were well and truly in love before they said their vows." She shrugged again. "I want what they had, having gown up with it."

This pronouncement startled Tavington. There had been no love lost between his mother and father, not one bit. His mother had damned near rejoiced when his father had died. Hell, they all had! The drunken carouser who destroyed their good family name, their esteem and almost bought the family to their knees financially.

"What I don't want," Beth continued into the silence. "Is an arranged marriage with no emotional attachment."

There, she said it - the words she had thought earlier. It was another truth, but not the _whole_ truth.

"I see," Tavington mused. "And is your father wroth with you? For refusing this marriage arrangement? Surely he could force you to it, if he had a mind to. If the connection was important enough."

"Oh, I... Ah... Well, that is..."

"You haven't told him yet," Tavington hooted. "Oh, sweet Lord above!"

"He'll understand!" Beth protested. "But perhaps I should write to him... It's been over two weeks since Colonel Burwell proposed..."

She had quite forgotten to tell her father, what with everything else that had taken place since Burwell's departure. But she had no doubt her father would not mind. If anything, Benjamin would be sympathetic to Burwell but he would never force her to marry. Besides, she'd be telling him the whole truth, that she believed she would one day marry the Colonel. She wouldn't be telling him the half truths she was telling Tavington now.

"I want to be in love with my husband, not merely respect him," Beth said by way of closing the subject. She felt she had done all she could to make him believe her.

"You respect Burwell?" William frowned.

"Of course, don't you?" She asked tartly. "You've fought him countless times over the last few months, or so I've heard. Can you honestly say you don't respect him?"

"As a Commander, I respect him," William said grudgingly. "The last time we fought was two weeks ago. I sent him a missive, demanding his surrender and he wrote back declaring he would fight until his last breath."

"Sweet Lord!" Beth breathed. "Did he really?"

"I would do no less," William admitted. "I would not have surrendered if I was in the same position he was in. Still, many died that day - mostly Continentals. And I still ended up capturing half his force. So I ask you, was his defiance worth it?"

Beth was silent for a long time, biting her lip as she considered his question. In the end, Burwell was the commander and it was imperative that he show a strong resolve.

"You didn't catch him, did you?" She asked quietly.

William frowned. "No, I did not."

"Then it was worth it."

His eyes widened with astonishment. Hundreds of men had died, been wounded or taken captive. And she believed it was worth the price for Burwell's escape? So that he could continue to fight their Cause, a strong figurehead and rallying point.

He tilted his head as he studied her with grudging respect.

"What happened to the Continentals you captured?" She asked.

"I had their wounds tended to and then they were sent on to Chapin. Cornwallis will be dealing with them now, offering them amnesty or keeping them held for use at a later date - for prisoner exchange and the like."

"Amnesty?" She understood the meaning of the word of course, but not in the context to which he applied it. She did not think she liked the sound of it, however.

"Yes. For a short time, they will be given the opportunity to seek forgiveness for their treason and forgiveness will be given."

"Forgiveness..." Beth frowned. "I don't understand - they say their sorry and go back to fighting again?"

The two had come to Beth's Uncle's house. A large manor of almost the same construction of Aunt Charlotte's. The difference was, while Charlotte's sported gardens to the rear of the property, Mark's bore gardens at the front and the back. His wife, Mage, was an avid gardener. The path leading from the gate to the house was long and winding, with large oaks to either side, the shade of which provided blessed relief from the stifling sun. Beth opened the wrought iron gate, expecting William to stop there to say his farewells. Instead, he walked with her - never releasing her hand from his arm.

"Only if they fight for the British," William laughed as they walked toward the house. "We won't be allowing them back into Continental ranks."

She gasped with shock.

"They wouldn't!" The very idea was outrageous. "No, Sir. I doubt you'll find many who would take up _that_ offer."

"You'd be surprised," he said, gazing at her thoughtfully. Just how 'Patriotic' was she, to show such outrage? "We've fleshed out our ranks with men who have seen the light and returned their Loyalty to the Crown."

Beth stopped dead on the gravel path, her jaw hanging open like a swinging door. Realising how ridiculous she must look, she snapped her mouth shut.

"Turn coats," she breathed. "I don't believe it."

"I dislike to burst those innocent little illusions of yours," William scoffed. He stopped also and had turned to face her. "But those Continentals who are caught will often see reason and come back to the King for a hot meal alone!"

"Such is _their_ resolve!" Beth spat. "A little hunger and they turn? Just like that? If their allegiance is so weak, then you are welcome to them!"

"I believe you're forgetting to whom you are speaking," Tavington murmured and Beth blushed crimson. Her mouth worked but she could frame no reply. "Little one, just how Patriotic _are_ you?"

_Little one? _She thought incredulously. Certainly, she was far shorter than he, he _towered_ over her! But 'little one'? It was an endearment, one used between sweethearts, not new acquaintances. She said nothing of it to him, choosing to answer his question instead. She sighed sullenly.

"I like His Majesty the Good King George just fine," she muttered with embarrassment.

Tavington began to laugh, a rich deep laugh, his eyes twinkling. It surprised Beth, she had not expected him capable of such mirth. She returned his laugh with a quiet, self conscious chuckle.

"Ah, _there_ it is," William murmured softly. He reached up and traced a thumb over her bottom lip. "I had not thought to ever see that smile of yours again, after your flare of temper earlier."

He stared down at his thumb as it traced her lip, his eyes becoming hooded. She was too shocked to move back from the feather light and pleasurable touch. When he drew his hand back and met her gaze, she swallowed hard.


	6. Chapter 6 - The Wager

**Chapter Six - The Wager**

Tavington stared down at his thumb as it traced her lip, his eyes becoming hooded. She was too shocked to move back from the feather light and pleasurable touch. When he drew his hand back and met her gaze, she swallowed hard.

"You do not need to conceal your Loyalties from me, Miss Martin." He said nothing of his action just now, nothing of touching her so intimately. "I am aware you are a Patriot. This in itself is not a reason for me to chastise you, I have had plenty of acquaintances among the Patriot women over the past four years in the Colonies."

_I'll bet you have, _Beth thought, feeling an unaccountable stab of jealousy. She wondered just how close an acquaintance he had enjoyed with these Patriot women.

"And what a reputation you've developed, these past four years," Beth said. She tried not to think of that stab of jealousy. Tried to push from her mind the feel of his thumb on her lips. She wondered what it would feel like, to have his lips on hers - but she pushed that thought away as well.

"You do not think very highly of me, do you Miss Martin?" His warm gaze sparkled with amusement.

Beth did not know how she felt about him. He was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. His continual touches - on her hands and now her lips - left her heart pounding, her pulse racing.

"Why do you say that, Sir?" She asked, trying to hide her undeniable attraction to him. "I do not know you well enough to judge my regard."

Tavington smiled at her, his eyes crinkled with amusement.

She felt captivated by him, his clean scent, his warm blue eyes, that smile. By her calculations he was eleven years her senior, but it did not bother her in the slightest. The way he glanced at her lips now, it was clear he wanted to kiss her. He returned his thumb to its gentle caress of her lip and his eyes darkened with need.

Beth sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. His thumb was withdrawn again and she felt his breath on her face. She opened her eyes slowly. Tavington had leaned down to her, his lips just hovering over hers. Her heart began to pound with anticipation, she could not have pulled away if she wanted to.

"Just one kiss, Miss Martin, before I fare you well," he whispered, before brushing his lips over hers.

The contact was light, a feather touch and so wonderful - so torturous. She didn't want it to end but she knew it was wrong - she couldn't do this, not with this man.

Beth, breathing raggedly, finally found her resolve.

_Now, before he deepens the kiss, before my knees are too weak to walk away. _She put her hands on the Officer's chest and firmly pushed him from her.

"They are expecting me inside," she whispered, taking a deliberate step back and turned away from him. "Good day to you, Sir."

Tavington knew exactly what effect he was having on the girl. He had felt her heart racing, felt her hands shiver. She wanted his touches, his kisses. And as a Gentleman, how could he deny her? His smiled deepened and after letting her walk exactly two small steps away from him, he reached out and placed his hands on her waist. He turned her to face him again and closed the short distance.

"Come here," he murmured. He wrapped his strong hands around her small waist, pulling him against his chest.

"Sir," she pleaded pitifully, her eyes lowered.

"Shh," he whispered as he held her in the cage of his arms. He gazed down at her warmly. "You're really quite beautiful, Miss Martin."

Beth was dazed, she blushed at the compliment and could not find her voice to reply.

"It is clear we admire one another," he continued, tightening his hold on her waist. Beth swallowed, she liked the feel of his arms around her.

"I'm sure I... Don't know what you mean," she said softly, more than a little bit flustered.

"Yes, you do," he challenged and she gasped softly. Still holding her around her waist with one hand, he raised his other to caress her cheeks with the backs of his fingers. She looked up at him, her deep brown eyes wide and innocent, short breaths puffing over her parted lips.

"Your heart is racing," he informed her, pulling her even closer. He towered over her, holding her as carefully as a frightened dove. She certainly seemed to shiver like a frightened dove. He found it endearing. He continued to list the symptoms of her attraction, in a soft whisper. "You're feeling faint, aren't you?" He whispered knowingly. "A warm flush, spreading from your stomach..." he leaned down to her neck, his lips gliding along her skin gently. She shivered and he smiled. "Along your spine..."

She closed her eyes and her lips parted of their own volition. His lips made a moist trail along her neck to her jaw, she leaned her head to the side, bearing herself to him.

"Leaving you light headed," he finished, whispering the words against her ear. He gently traced his lips over the shell of her ear.

"You mistake me," she whispered back. "Sir, I must... Oh..." Her resolve crumbled and her weak knees suddenly gave way.

He returned his hand to her waist, cradling her, supporting her. Beth melted against his hard chest, rested her head there for a moment. She could feel his heart pounding through his jacket and it shocked her. She had thought the attraction went only one way. The discovery stirred something deep inside her.

"Will you admit it?" He whispered. She raised her head and met his gaze. "Hmm?"

She shook her head imperceptibly and he chuckled, lowering his lips to hers, not quite touching.

"You won't admit how bothered I make you?" He whispered, so close to her lips their breaths mingled.

"No," she breathed, though she raised herself onto her toes, inviting him to kiss her. "Will you?"

"Admit it?" He asked. "I thought it was obvious." His eyes were hooded, his lips never moving more than half an inch from hers. "Then again, a girl likes to be told, doesn't she?"

"Please don't..." She whimpered. "Teasing..."

"Hmm, you're quite correct," he chuckled. "How rude of me."

Finally his lips brushed against hers again.

"I am quite captivated with you, Miss Martin," he told her.

"Oh," Beth breathed.

He began moving his lips against hers and she swooned, clutching the front of his Redcoat with tight fingers, pulling him closer.

"Hmm," he murmured, his heart racing. He gently nudged her lips with his, guiding them to part.

She let herself be guided by him. He suckled on her bottom lip, then her top. That warm flush he described began to spread through her. She moved her arms up to loop around his neck.

"You are such a little thing," he murmured between kisses, "you fit in my arms perfectly."

"Sweet Lord, you mustn't say things like that," Beth whispered back.

"Its the simple truth, little one," he suckled her lip lightly again, then urged her lips to part further. His tongue glided along her bottom lip, making her shiver.

"We have to stop," she whispered, gathering her wits.

"Why?" He asked her in a careless tone. She was quite distracting and her lips felt so good against his. She tasted on innocence. He wanted to slide his tongue between her lips but she was drawing away from him again. "Come now, no one can see us, we are shrouded by the trees."

"It's not that," her voice quavered. He leaned in to claim her lips again but she turned her face away and shook her head. She gently but firmly placed her hands on his forearms to pry them from her waist.

"I can't do this, I have to go," her voice was harsh and she would not meet his eyes. Whirling from him, she pressed her hands to her stomach, trying to stop the sharp but pleasurable flips.

"Miss Martin," he reached for her again.

"Beth, is that you?" A man's voice called and Tavington lowered his arm with a scowl. "Ah, there you are Beth - oh, I did not realize you had company."

"Oh, yes," Beth tried to make her voice sound normal. Her face flushed all over again as she met Tavington's annoyed eyes. "We were just saying goodbye. Have you met Lieutenant Colonel Tavington, Uncle? Sir, this is my Uncle, Mark Putman."

Mark's eyes widened with shock - when he had seen the flashes of red through the trees, he had expected to see Private Watson, a Redcoat who had taken a liking to Beth, who had visited her on occasion. But here he was, face to face with Tavington.

The Butcher.

"No, we have not met," Mark said, finally finding his voice. "It's a pleasure Sir, will you be joining us for lunch?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Putman, I must decline. I was merely walking Miss Martin home, perhaps some other time?"

"Of course, my wife Mage would love to meet you, Sir," Mark said. Though he did not show it, he was reluctant to entertain the high ranking British Officer. He only allowed Private Watson to visit Beth because he sensed potential in the lad, sensed a wavering of Loyalty. Still, he would be polite, would do nothing to draw suspicion to himself and his Patriot ideals. Most Patriots were concealing their Loyalties, now that the British controlled Charles Town. "I did not realise you were acquainted with my niece?"

"We have only just met, this very morning," William's eyes where still warm as he gazed at Beth. His voice, however, sounded normal, completely under his control. Beth wondered if his heart was still racing, for hers surely was. "I wonder, Mr. Putman, would you grant me permission to visit with your niece, occasionally? If you are agreeable, of course, Miss Martin."

Beth smiled weakly in reply.

Mark seemed taken aback, but he recovered well. "If Beth is agreeable, then of course you may, Sir."

_Christ, it was bad enough having that Banastre Tarleton sniffing about her! But he had never asked outright if he could visit! _

Beth nodded her permission. She turned to walk toward the house, but Tavington reached for her hand.

"I will come by this evening, then, unless you have plans? Until then, Miss Martin," William said, kissing her hand lightly and giving it a warm squeeze. "Good day, Mr. Putman."

Beth watched Tavington stride up the path and out of the gate, her face flushed all over again.

"Dear Lord, what have I just agreed to?"

"I'm not certain, Beth," Mark said, losing his polite demeanor. He seemed worried now. "I think you have some explaining to do, little missy."

Beth sighed heavily and walked with her Uncle to the house.

:::::::::

William sauntered along the street with a small smile tugging his lips, he felt like whistling as he began his search for Banastre.

_Lord, what a beauty she is. And her lips... _His smile broadened at the feel of his lips brushing hers, it had been... exhilarating. He was surprised by his reaction to the girl, his heart had not pounded that hard in years! It usually took far more for him to feel so bothered, far more than a simple kiss.

_Perhaps it was her reaction to me that was so intoxicating._

William had not failed to notice it - almost from the first few moments of meeting. He suspected it was love at first sight - for her, in any case. Her heart had beaten wildly when he kissed her and he knew it had taken every fibre of her being to push him away. Though it was just as well she had, seeing that he Uncle had come along only moments later.

He continued to muse over his attraction to the girl. She was certainly beautiful enough, and charming. Her temper! What a fiery little thing!

_Her connection to Burwell certainly adds some spice. How satisfying it would be, to bed the woman Burwell proposed to. _He almost laughed aloud over the prospect.

He nodded to Beth's friends as he passed them by, they were still sitting on the green grass. The nodded back warily. Their concern over Miss Claire Bryant's declaration had not been lost on him, Beth's three friends had gone on the alert like blood hounds chasing a scent as soon as Miss Bryant had mentioned Colonel Burwell.

Still, Beth had explained the marriage proposal and her rejection to his satisfaction. Every young girl dreamed of love, the only thing that surprised him about the matter was that her father - according to Beth - would not mind her refusal. Not when the marriage would bring such prestige and connections to what William assumed as a family of middling wealth. Confident that Burwell would pursue the girl no further, Tavington decided he would set his sights on her. Hell, he would have pursued her even if she was engaged to the Continental Colonel!

Tavington, however, would not be pursuing her for marriage.

It was alright for Burwell, to take a young bride of middling means - he was a widow of great wealth and had two heirs already. William suspected Burwell simply wanted a young lovely to tote around to balls and the like, a lovely decoration for other men to envy.

William, however, had to marry well. He had to marry a woman of means - and his mother had already secured him such. He was engaged to a young woman called Miss Eleanor Price, with twenty thousand pounds and an apartment in London. A pretty thing, to be sure. Not as beautiful as Miss Martin, however. Little Miss Beth Martin would provide him no end of entertainment while he was in South Carolina, but it was Miss Price that he would marry.

William finally found Banastre, as he was trotting down the steps in front of the Hall.

"What was so urgent?" William called as he drew closer.

"Sir Clinton has just received word from New Jersey. The rebels are making a nuisance of themselves again, becoming organized under one leader. This new leader's harassment of our forces are starting to become bothersome. I will need to head out from Charles Town sooner than we thought."

"Strange, I thought we had a more secure hold of the area than this. We had the countryside quelled before we left there."

"I know. New York _is_ still ours. New Jersey, however, is becoming a problem. Apparently Washington is arming the rebel militia and there have been complaints of rape, murder, kidnappings. I will settle for them quickly enough, I am sure."

"You have always been confident, Ban," he smiled.

Banastre raised his eyebrows, catching the double meaning.

"Thank you, William. Justifiably so, I must say," Banastre's voice was aloof, he chose to take the older Officers observation as a compliment. "Did you see Miss Martin safely home?"

Banastre asked the question with forced casualness. The two men entered a prosperous looking tavern, in search of wine and perhaps a game of cards. Banastre had been there before and recommended it, William trusted in his friend's good taste.

"Yes. She has quite a temper, does she not?"

"I thought your eyes would pop out of your head when she turned on you. And her face - could have been carved from stone!" Banastre held the door open for William.

"Perhaps we pushed her too hard. Most others break under the strain, however. They certainly do not fire up the way she did! I admit I was very surprised indeed." William blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the tavern's common room.

"I was surprised you did not grow angry yourself - not many people speak to you that way. You have no tolerance, what so ever." Banastre led the way to a table, William sat across from him.

"No, not usually. I think I was too astonished at first, and then... You are right about her, she is the loveliest of creatures." William idly drummed his gloved fingertips on the table top.

"I am always right when it comes to women, William." Banastre pulled his gloves off and placed them on the table. They had not been seated long when they were approached by the innkeeper.

"Good afternoon, Sir. What can I get for you today? Will you be dining? We have roast lamb and the vegetables are almost ready. Bread, cheese?"

"No, we will not be dining," he glanced at William who nodded agreement. They had both eaten their fill from Colin Ferguson's picnic basket. "A nice red will be all for now - a merlot, if you will," Banastre replied, and the inn keep turned away to fetch the drinks.

"I have decided she was speaking the truth," William said when they were alone. "Miss Martin. I asked her a few more questions - carefully - and am confident their union was an arranged one only. Its a pity really, if Burwell valued her, she would have proved a useful tool."

"Perhaps. I suggest we keep a close eye on her for now." Banastre said. "Perhaps mention her to Clinton, just so he is aware."

"Agreed," William said, then he smirked. "Speaking of keeping an eye on her, I am going to visit her tonight." He leaned back in his seat and watched as his friend's face twist with a scowl.

A pretty barmaid was walking by, she stopped in her steps and stared at Tavington with frank admiration, then gave him a slow wink. William smiled warmly at the young woman and nodded once.

"I told you hands off, man!" Banastre growled, speaking of Beth - not the barmaid.

"Now, now, you won't even be here!" William reminded him. "You'll probably never return here again - or not for months. The poor girl will be lonely, if you scare away all her suitors."

The inn keep returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses, placing them on the table.

"Thank you, sir, I will pour them," Banastre said, dismissing the man. "Not all her suitors, William," he muttered when they were alone again. "Just you."

"You think to scare me away?" William laughed. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he gazed at the other Officer. "Lets make it interesting, shall we?"

"Oh, no! No you don't - I do not have time for a quick seduction!" Banastre protested at once. "I barely managed to convince Sir Clinton to allow me to stay long enough to attend the ball! No, she will need to be taken slowly, a quick seduction will not do her justice."

"£50." William smiled and leaned forward intently, folding his arms on the table. "Come now, it is always so much more entertaining when we have more to win than the girl herself... And to take Burwell's prospective bride out from under him..." He laughed at his play on words. "Can you imagine what he would say, learning that a British Officer had taken his decoration?"

Tarleton whistled at the price Tavington set for the wager and pulled his gaze away. He recognized that predatory gleam in his friends eyes and knew William would not give in.

_Oh well, it is not like I wanted to marry the girl, anyway. But damn it, I want her for myself, I do not want to lose her in a bloody bet with William!_

"£50 is a fair figure, William. I take it we are talking rogering her? Taking her virtue?"

"Of course," William laughed again, "what else?"

"This is going to be Mary Robinson all over again. You know she still writes to me, all the way from England? I admit she is a fair poet and I enjoy her letters. However, she is waiting for me to return to her!"

"And what a lucky bastard you are too! I still do not know how you managed to win her away from me. This wager will not be like that one, however. I plan on _winning_ this time."

"Now who is over confident? Fine. Done. £50 it is," Bansatre replied, he had to shove aside an unexpected pang of guilt. "Be sure you have the money ready, Tavington."

William sat back in his chair and sipped his wine with a contended smile. He had no intention of losing this bet - his pride alone would not allow it - not after having lost the beautiful Mary Robinson. Miss Martin would more than make up for the loss. Besides, judging by her reaction while he kissed her, she was already half way his.

His member hardened at the very thought, achingly confined within in breeches.

"I will be back soon," William murmured. He followed the pretty barmaid as she disappeared through a door at the back of the common room.

"Oh, do be quick, William. I do not want to sit here drinking by myself," Banastre sighed sullenly. "I would have bought Hanger along if I'd known you'd abandon me for a wench!"

William laughed and crossed the common room with quick strides, catching up to the barmaid in the corridor. Once he was close behind her, he covered her eyes with his hands.

"Guess who?" He whispered in her ear.

"I do not know your name, but I hope you are the handsome fellow with blue eyes..." The girl flirted.

"No!" William laughed with mock outrage. "I am the other one, with red hair..."

"Hmm, I know you are not," She was still blinded to him. "He is far shorter..."

"Oh? You've had him before?" William's tone became desirous. Banastre and he were often attracted to the same women. It was not unheard of for them to _roger_ the same women, and boast later about who had satisfied her more.

"Yes..." She admitted with a giggle.

"Then I simply must have you also. Tarleton and I always share our toys."

"Oh, is that what I am?" The barmaid turned to face him and William put his arms around her, giving her bottom a gentle squeeze. "Perhaps the two of you are _my_ toys..."

"Well then come play with me," Tavington lowered his lips to hers and gave her bottom lip a playful nip.

"Not without knowing your name, dear heart."

"Dear heart... I like the sound of that. I want you to whisper it in my ear when I am inside you. Oh, I am Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington, Green Dragoons, most definitely at your service."

The girl's knees weakened in his grip, he had to hold her steady.

"No..." She whispered, he laughed to see awe and fear in her eyes.

_I do have a reputation, it seems._

"Come, darling, show me to a room where we can have some privacy."

"This way," the girl took his hand and led William to a storeroom filled with shelves.

"Interesting," he laughed. "I've not coupled in a storeroom before."

"I'll show you how," she murmured. Her fingers began unclasping his belt, then slowly undid the buttons. William ran his hands over her breasts through her bodice, then with a sigh he leaned down to nibble her earlobe.

"What is your name?" He murmured.

"Helen Shaw."

He traced his tongue along her ear and Helen shivered and sighed.

"Time to play with your toy, Helen Shaw. Take me into your mouth."

"My pleasure," Helen's voice was breathless as knelt before him. She tugged his breeches down and pulled forth his length. "Oh, your toy is larger than Banastre's."

William laughed with delight, he knew he was bigger than his friend. He swallowed hard and dropped his head back as Helen began to play with her new toy, her tongue circled his helmet slowly before taking it into her mouth to suckle the tip gently.

Tavington wrapped his fingers through her hair and bucked his hips slowly, back and forth. His breath quickened and his heart began to pound.

_Lord, I only kissed her and my heart pounded, much the way it is now!_ He grunted as he wondered how much more of an effect Beth would have on his body, if it was her kneeling before him. He could gaze down at the top of her blonde head and watch as his cock disappeared into her mouth. Her tongue would twirl around his member and she would look up to meet his eyes, her mouth open wide with his full yard buried deep inside.

William shuddered over the lewd imagine. He gripped Helen's head, pushed her forward until he could feel the back of her throat and began to buck wildly as he panted in short, sharp bursts. Helen was having trouble keeping up with him, his need was great. She gripped his hips, trying to no avail, to slow his movements. Her mouth began to ache, but she continued to suckle and twirl her tongue.

Sweat beaded William's forehead. He closed his eyes and focused on the image of Beth, in her silks, with her lovely golden hair flowing around her, her eyes closed with the enjoyment of pleasing him, only him.

"Agh..." William moaned. Helen slapped at his backside and tried to push him off her. He stopped instantly, though he realised belatedly that she had already been _trying_ to get him to stop for some time. "Ah, sorry, darling. You are intoxicating."

"Colonel," Helen rose to stand before him. "Lord, what a man you are - I need you inside me." She was dragging up her skirts.

"I was inside you, darling," he quipped. William pushed her back against the shelves and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips and sighed as he lowered her onto his cock. The tip of his erection found her entrance. He slipped inside her and her velvety smooth walls enveloped him.

"Dear heart," Helen murmured against his ear and William smiled with pleasure. It reminded him of Beth, he hoped one day that she would whisper it in his ear also. "Dear heart - I am your toy..."

"Yes, darling, you are," William murmured as he began to stroke in and out of her gently. The beads of sweat became drips, his back was slick with it under his shirt. Breathing heavily now, the lovers movements gained with intensity and speed.

William felt warmth suffuse his body, the heat building until it was an unbearable fire. He groaned and pounded into the woman hard and fast now, her fingers gripped his neck.

"Kiss me, oh, Colonel - please!"

Tavington crashed his lips to hers. He did not kiss whores, but this girl was a lover, not a whore. His tongue searched for hers and they dueled and writhed together as they gasped against each others mouths. Tavington kissed her harder, his teeth accidentally banged along hers, though she barely seemed to notice. She was whimpering inarticulately now and when her velvety walls tightened around his erection, squeezing him tight, he gave a low long groan and came. The fire in his veins pulsed in his erection as his seed spilled deep inside her.

The lovers held still, unable to move after the force of their combined climax. Tavington lowered his head to her shoulder and Helen kissed his neck and cheek.

"Simply wonderful..." She murmured.

"Better than Banastre?" He breathed.

"Oh, Lord... No, I will not answer that - I do not wish him to be offended, I will want him again, you see."

"Ah, I'll take that as a yes, then," William laughed. He brushed his lips against hers, a gentle lovers kiss as he lifted her off his length and set her to her unsteady feet. "Will you want me again, also?"

"Oh... yes... Most definitely, Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington of the Green Dragoons. I'll be dreaming about you tonight. Why don't you come and visit me here later?"

"I am sorry, darling. I have a previous engagement." He kissed her again, but his thoughts had again turned to Miss Beth Martin.

:::::::::::::::

"I'm not sure, Mila," Beth said. She sat at her small table and gazed at her reflection. "Do you think you could... Just this part here..?"

"Beth!" Mila admonished. "I've done it perfect! You're never this fussy!"

"I know, I just... I want it to be perfect -"

"Its perfect now! Whats wrong with it?"

Mila placed her hands on her hips and glared down at Beth. The two were alone, in her room, no one to see Mila behaving so stern with her mistress. Beth was used to it, however. The two had an unusual 'Mistress / Maid' relationship.

Abigale, nursemaid to all of the Martin children, had raised her daughter at Fresh Water plantation. Mila, being of an age with Beth, had been Beth's constant companion when they were children. This had not changed when they matured into womanhood, though they had soon discovered that such a friendship was frowned upon. Not only was Mila a 'servant', but she was of African descent. Hardly a suitable companion to a young Lady of Charles Town aristocracy. The two had soon learned to keep the facade up in public, Mila always waited until they were alone before twitting Beth.

"Nothing," Beth said, leaning in closer to the mirror. Her hair was perfect, but there was just something... lacking. "Could you wind some ribbons through it?"

"Yes, m' Lady," Mila offered a mocking curtsy and went to fetch the ribbons. "Brown, I'm guessin'?"

"Yes, please." Beth ignored the mockery. Again, she was used to it. "So," she ventured as Mila began working on Beth's hair again. "I know Zeke is a touchy subject for you, but have you spoken to him lately?"

"He's a touchy subject 'cause he's a slave and Mama won't let me take up with a slave," Mila bemoaned. "And now we're leavin' and I'll never see him again."

"You might!" Beth assured her. "We won't be staying away for ever."

"Oh, its hopeless, it is," Mila said. "No need tryin' to raise my spirits. Maybe I'll see him again, maybe not. He'll still be a slave, either way."

"True," Beth said sadly.

"So, who is he?"

"Hmm?" Beth met Mila's eyes in the mirror.

"Who is he?" Mila smiled. "This fella you're going' to these lengths for?"

"I'm not going to any lengths!" Beth protested.

Mila hooted with laughter. "You've changed ya' dresses twice, you made me to ya' stays so tight you'll probably faint, you're not happy with your hair! Its a man thats on your mind - I know you too well for you to fool me."

"You, Mila, are forgetting yourself," Beth said primly, though she did not really mean it. "You are no proper maid."

"Thats what I've been tryin' to tell ya'!" Mila hooted again. "Come, Beth. Tell me!"

Beth drew a deep breath, steeling herself. Then she began to tell Mila, in great detail, about her encounter with Tavington. She told Mila more than she had the others - Mary and her other friends who had stopped by a short while earlier to check on her. She told Mila about the kiss and how agreeable she had found it.

"I'm not sure what's come over me, I barely know him. And he's the enemy, Harry's enemy. Lord, he could face Gabriel on the field, could kill him! But here I am - why can't I stop thinking about him? Why can't I get him out of my head? He's going to visit tonight and it makes me terrified."

"Why are you scared? He won't hurt you, will he?"

"No, I think I managed to convince him there is nothing in it - with Burwell and I. No, I fear that he will visit and I will react to him all over again - I was behaving like a fool! And I fear even more that he won't come tonight. Oh, what if he doesn't, Mila? I'll go to bed all desolate and alone!"

"Well, you'll go to bed alone anyway," Mila laughed. "He won't be warming it for you."

"Mila!" Beth cried, aghast. "Of course he won't be!"

"But I know what you mean," Mila went on as though Beth had not spoken. "If he doesn't show, you'll be upset, thats for sure. Well, you'll know in a few hours, won't you?"

"I certainly will," Beth sighed heavily.


	7. Chapter 7 - The Gift of a Rose

**Chapter Seven - The Gift of a Rose**

"Thank you for coming by, Private, it is always so good to see you," Beth said, she was seeing Private Watson to the door after his unexpected visit.

"The pleasure is all mine," Watson smiled shyly. He had become quite taken with Beth and was flattered that she would allow him to visit her. She was a charming, and much needed, diversion from the horrors of war. He had come to regret joining the army though he would never admit so aloud. Retiring was not an option, his father would be so disappointed.

Watson would be returning to England in disgrace if he left the army now. He pushed the unpleasant thoughts from his mind, for standing before him was the lovely Miss Martin and he had been awaiting an opportunity to get her alone, to ask her if she would dance with him at the public ball. He began shyly, almost nervously. She would refuse him, of course - she was too kind - but still, it was nerve wracking, asking girls to dance.

"Miss Martin, will dance with me tomorrow night?"

"Of course," Beth smiled, sensing Watson's nerves. "I thought you'd never ask."

"I wanted to," Watson chuckled. "All evening. But I didn't want to ask in front of your family. Miss Putman has such a sense of humor, I felt certain she would tease me."

"Oh, she would not be so cruel," Beth laughed, then frowned. "Well, perhaps she would be, at that!"

They shared another laugh and Watson doffed his helmet in farewell.

"Until tomorrow night then?" He asked.

"I'm looking forward to it," Beth smiled.

He nodded and turned to walk along the path. Beth waited at the door, knowing he would wave from the gate as was their custom. Custom, Beth scoffed to herself. She had only met him above a week ago! Still, he was a pleasant enough fellow for a Redcoat, he certainly didn't unsettle her the way Tavington did...

_Oh my Lord, speak of the Devil... _Beth stiffened, spying Tavington crossing the road and striding toward the house. He had yet to see her, his gaze seemed to be fixed on Watson. The Officers met at the gate, Watson standing to attention for his superior. Tavington said something and Watson relaxed instantly, then held the gate open for Tavington to step through.

Tavington strode along the path, his gaze finally catching Beth's. Her heart was pounding already and he had not even reached her yet! As he had been earlier that day, he was resplendent in his Redcoat with green trim and his black buckskin breeches. He still wore his sword on his hip, even now. His dark hair was neatly combed back into a queue and his blue eyes where fixed on Beth, standing on the porch.

Watson waved to Beth from the gate and she remembered herself - jerking her gaze from Tavington to wave back at her friend. William had a small smile on his face as he closed the distance between them, however when he saw Beth wave at the Private, his eyes widened and he shot a quick look over his shoulder toward the departing Officer.

"A friend of yours, Miss Martin?" William asked when he reached her. He caught her hand and placed a light but lingering kiss above her fingers before releasing her. "He was visiting with you?"

"Yes, Sir," Beth blushed.

"I thought he might have been here to visit this cousin of yours you spoke of earlier," his tone held a mild rebuke. "Who is he? I've not seen him before."

William looked over his shoulder again, though Watson was almost out of sight.

"Private Watson, he is a light cavalry officer."

"Light cavalry, indeed?" His tone seemed even less approving than before. "He looks very young."

"Twenty, I believe."

"Ah, a pup then," William smiled, dismissing Private Watson as competition. He took Beth's hands in his again. "You look beautiful this evening, Miss Martin."

Her blush deepened. She would not admit it to her cousin Cilla, but she had made quite an effort to look her best, secretly hoping that Tavington would keep his word and come to visit. She was finding it difficult to breath but that had nothing to do with the tighter than usual stays. Tavington was eyeing her with that small smile, his blue eyes seemed so warm. Beth felt as though she would drown in them.

"Are you going to invite me in, little one?" William prompted gently.

That endearment again... It warmed her to hear it. Still, he had reminded her of the courtesies and Beth blushed crimson.

"Oh, of course," she murmured and pulled her hands from his. "Please, do come in, Sir."

She waved her arm toward the door with a welcoming gesture.

"After you," he said and Beth led the way to the parlor. Her family where already there, Aunt Mage sat at the pianoforte, she had been playing a tune before Beth led Tavington in. Cilla sat on a chaise with a book in her hand and Mark sat by the unlit fire, sipping brandy. Beth made the introductions, then sat down on a two seater lounger, secretly hoping William would sit beside her.

She was not to be disappointed. After greeting Mark, Tavington strode to Beth and lowered himself beside her, close enough their legs touched, though it was a three person lounger and he had no need to sit so close.

Mage's eyes widened but she said nothing. For now.

Their seating arrangement placed Cilla across from them now. Earlier that day, Mary, Colin and Rebecca had come to call, to ensure Beth had returned home without incident. Beth had told them everything, and none of it was to Cilla's liking. She studied Beth and Tavington now and felt a growing unease. Her cousin seemed to be drowning in Tavington's hot gazes. Beth had seemed a little evasive earlier when she repeated the events of the day, Cilla had sensed that she had left a few things out. She was certain now - the most important point of all - that Beth was enamored of the British Officer.

Banastre Tarleton had come by while all their friends were there - and Beth had not gazed half so adoringly at him!

They made small talk - with Mage and Mark present, William had to behave himself, not push his suit for the girl. He had timed his arrival in the hope of an invitation to dine with the family and he was not disappointed.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Colonel?" Aunt Mage invited eventually. "Or do you already have plans?"

"No, no plans," William replied "I do not like to impose, however, Mrs. Putman."

"No imposition at all, Sir!" Uncle Mark replied. "As I told you earlier today, you are most welcome."

"Oh, do stay," Aunt Mage blushed, "I would love to hear of some of your escapades, Sir. We have heard so many stories! Of Tarleton also! I was disappointed that I was not able to meet him earlier today when he stopped by to visit Beth."

"Oh, Tarleton was here?" William asked, glancing at Beth with a glint in his eye. Beth could not discern his expression, he could not possibly be jealous - they had only just met! Then again, she had been jealous when he had mentioned all of the Patriot women he had become acquainted with in the past.

"Yes," Beth replied simply - she had nothing to hide, after all. Not where Banastre Tarleton was concerned anyway. "He dropped by earlier and had afternoon tea with us."

"I see," Tavington said, trying to conceal his irritation. "Did you enjoy your visit with him? He his an affable young man, to be sure."

"Quite affable," Beth agreed. "My other friends were here also, Mary, Rebecca and Colin. So yes, overall it was an enjoyable visit." She paused, searching for the right word. "Lively."

"Lively," Tavington laughed. It pleased him that Banastre had not managed to be alone with the lass, if her friends had been present. "Most meetings with Banastre are 'lively'."

A servant - no a slave, Tavington saw to his surprise, entered to announce dinner was ready to be served. Many families in the Colonies kept slaves but somehow it surprised him that Beth's family was one of them.

"Shall we go through, then?" Mage asked. "I do hope everything is to your liking, Sir," she said as they made their way to the dining hall. "You may be used to finer food than we have to offer."

Tavington scoffed to himself. Judging by the large manor and the quality of its ornaments and oil paintings, it ornate furnishings, the Mark Putman was not lacking in wealth.

"I am a simple soldier," he said diffidently. "I am used to living on rations. I am certain I will be more than gratified and very much obliged, to be dining with you."

He had said exactly the right thing, it seemed. Mage smiled broadly, deeply contented. They sat down at the table, Mark at the head, William and Beth together, Mage and Cilla facing them.

He briefly considered touching his foot to Beth's but decided she was not ready for such 'under the table' play just yet. Talk turned to the war, as it always did at such times. Mage asked him endless questions. What camp life was like, did he miss the luxuries of living in a home, did he miss England, how long did he think the war would continue, she asked of previous battles, his sea crossing over four years ago.

"I have never been on a ship myself, as astounding as that sounds," Mage admitted. "I'm South Carolina born and bred and had never felt the need to go anywhere else."

"No indeed?" Tavington asked. His ear pricked up at his comment, so far he had been given the feeling that the Putman's - despite their connection to Beth's father through marriage - were Loyalists. They had said nothing to contradict that sentiment, until Mage's comment.

"I've been to England several times," Mark said quickly. "You know, I've even met His Majesty King George?"

This drew Tavington's attention like nothing else - he stared at Mark with amazement.

"Yes, it was not an official meeting, of course," Mark continued. "You know of His Majesty's proclivity for visiting the outlying farms on the spur of them moment?"

Tavington nodded, the King was well known for it. The papers often drew satirical comics of the King, visiting farmers who are too stunned to speak to him.

"I do," William said softly.

"Well, to say I met him was not entirely correct. But I did see him - he stood only yards from me! I happened to be at a village when the King himself came by in his carriage. Every one was quite astounded, I assure you. The carriage stopped and His Grace stepped out, then marched over to a crofter and began speaking to him in regards to a house the King himself had designed for him. He handed the crofter the plans, nodded politely, then climbed back into the carriage and was on his way! I thought the crofter would faint dead away, though the man seemed to have encountered the King before judging by their conversation."

"Dear Lord!" Every one exclaimed over the story and they spoke about it for some time. Eventually, however, Tavington turned his gaze to Beth and the two spoke quietly for several moments.

As soon as Tavington was distracted, Mark shot Mage a stern glare. The Putman's were as Patriotic as the Martin's, a fact Mark did not want Tavington to discover. Mark had been working with Harry Burwell for sometime, gathering men together to be sent out as spies amongst the British. Burwell himself had no time to manage such and so he left the responsibility to his trusted friend, Mark Putman.

Mark, therefore, would do everything he had to, to keep suspicions from himself. Including allowing the enemy British Officer to believe Mark was Loyal to the Crown. Including allowing Tavington to court Beth, as despicable as that was to the Patriot Intelligence agent.

Still, it presented a unique opportunity. Beth would be leaving in only two more weeks, there was no real worry that Tavington or Beth would form a true attachment to one another in that time. Not when Beth had other Officers calling on her, Tarleton and Watson. If he played his cards right, Mark would possibly be able slip some more trusted men into British ranks. He detested using Beth in such a manner - the girl was his niece and he loved her dearly - but he decided he would encourage the Officers attentions until Beth left, slipping Patriots into British corps in the interim.

He needed to keep his dear wife quiet, however. Tavington had gone on the alert as soon as Mage mentioned her desire to remain in, and never leave, South Carolina. He suspected Tavington looked out for the slightest hint of information without even being aware he was doing so. It was second nature to the Lieutenant Colonel, Mark was sure.

Luckily, Tavington was enthralled by Beth and was happy to set his suspicions aside - if they had been there to start with. Mark was overly cautious by nature - as one had to be in his position. He had his spies to protect, he wanted none of them to be caught, to have to pay the ultimate price.

When the main course was done, cakes and custard were served.

"Sir, I promised the Ladies we would go for a walk after dinner - it is a lovely night and a band is playing in the park. If you would care to join us, you are more than welcome," Mark offered Tavington.

"I would like nothing more," William replied. So far, the evening had gone better than he could have hoped for. Time was of the essence, he would not be in Charles Town for long. Nor would Banastre, who had already begun his seduction of the girl if his visit to the house earlier that afternoon was any indication. A Lady of her station would have to be seduced gently, a difficult thing to do with his time constraints. He was determined to win the wager, however. Winning her family over would certainly help him in his mission.

After dinner, the family and William - with the Ladies maids trailing along at a discreet distance, headed out of the house to the large park across the hard packed road. The park was not as large as The Square, but it was every bit as lovely. Lit with lanterns throughout and already filled with people strolling along. There was indeed a band playing a lively beat on their stringed instruments and flutes.

William offered Beth his arm and slowed their pace, falling far behind Cilla and her parents. He stopped in front of the musicians and they listened for a while before moving on again. Other couples wandered by, nodding to Beth and Colonel Tavington in greeting. Eventually they made their slow way back to the Putman's to stroll through the extensive, well manicured gardens there.

William picked a red rose from its stem. He cursed softly when a thorn bit deeply into his finger, drawing a bead of blood. He had taken off his gloves a long while ago, they would have protected his skin against the thorns had he still been wearing them. Ignoring the sting, he snapped the rest of the thorns off the long stem and then presented it to Beth.

"For you, my darling," he said warmly and she took the flower with a shy smile.

"Thank you. You're bleeding, Sir," Beth said, pointing at Tavington's thumb.

"Its but a trifle," William replied, wiping the bead of blood on a kerchief.

"My Aunt will kill you if she finds out you picked one of her flowers, Sir," Beth said playfully. "She can be quite formidable."

"I dare say I have won your Aunt over completely - I am certain she will forgive me," Tavington smiled and took Beth by the hand. Beth could not help a small sigh as his fingers wound through hers. Her whole body flushed with pleasure at his touch. He gazed down at her with knowing eyes.

"You should not be so sure of yourself, Sir," Beth breathed, trying to gain control of herself. "Any regard you have won from her could be completely undone when she sees this." She held up the rose.

"It will have to be our little secret then, hmm?" Tavington replied softly, his eyes again studied her intently. "Keep still, my dear - there is a bee." Tavington reached up and gently twirled his fingers through her intricate braids, caressing through her hair gently. Beth knew from his mischievous smile that there was no bee. His fingers traced her cheek lightly and Beth shivered, her emotions becoming scattered all over again.

"I've enjoyed our evening so far Miss Martin," Tavington's voice was still soft, a lovers caress. "I asked you earlier today if you regarded me at all and you said you did not know me well enough. I dare say you've changed your opinion of me by now?"

"I'm sorry?" Beth breathed, she found it difficult to think straight enough to concentrate on his words. His lips were so close, she hoped he'd kiss her again.

"You did not seem to think very highly of me, earlier today," he smiled confidently. "I wonder if your regard has changed?"

_Lord, he looks so sure of himself - that mocking smile!_

"Oh, you think you have completely won _me_ over also, don't you? It is as it was earlier, Sir. I do not know you well enough to judge my regard," Beth said aloofly and with a toss of her head, she turned from him to catch up with her family just ahead.

She heard Tavington's quiet chuckle from behind her. She had not fooled him, he knew exactly what effect he was having on her.

::::::::::::::::::::

Later that night, Beth poured her heart and her fears out into the pages of her diary. When the ink dried, she pressed the rose in the diaries pages. It would be a keepsake from Tavington, as she had given him a keepsake - one of her ribbons - at the end of the evening.

Removing her robe, she climbed into the bed with only her shift. She lay on her side and stared at the flames of her small fire. Sleep alluded her, it had been such a long and confusing day, her head was in a spin.

She went over every detail of the evening in her mind, even traced her fingers gently along her cheek where Tavington's fingers had caressed her.

Tavington had stayed until it was quite late, sitting beside Beth in the parlor, until Uncle Mark made his apologies and announced it was time for the family to retire for the evening.

Tavington had apologized also. He bowed over Aunt Mage's hand and kissed it lightly. He shook Uncle Mark's hand, explaining that he'd had such a wonderful evening he'd quite lost track of the time, he had not meant to keep them up so late.

Aunt Mage and Beth walked Tavington to the door, where he kissed Beth's hand.

_"Miss Martin, I wonder if you will allow me a keepsake?" Tavington asked._

_Beth laughed, her eyes darting to her Aunt with embarrassment. "I... What keepsake, Sir?" She asked nervously._

_"One of your silk ribbons, they are the exact deep brown of your eyes, you know."_

_Beth nodded and reached up to unwind a ribbon, but Tavington beat her to it. She lowered her arms as he carefully unwound his chosen ribbon, Beth could feel the braid tugging gently against her scalp as he worked. Once he had the ribbon free, his fingers caressed her neck and shoulder. Beth sighed and leaned into his touch. Her Aunt, on the other side of her, saw none of this._

_"Good evening to you, Miss Martin. Mrs. Putman," Tavington had said, stepping back from Beth and heading off into the night._

_"Well, well, well," Aunt Mage sighed. "What a handsome fellow. You have certainly made a conquest, I think, sweet Beth."_

_Beth shook her head and followed her Aunt back inside. "You are wrong, Aunt Mage - he is the one making a conquest."_

_"Perhaps so!" Aunt Mage laughed._

::::::::::::

As she lay in bed, Beth suddenly remembered Gabriel's letters. Knowing instinctively what sort of man Tavington was, she felt she had to get her feelings for him under control. There was not a doubt in her mind that she would marry Burwell one day, it would be a terrible thing to start feeling so strongly for another man, Burwell's enemy at that!

Furthermore, Tavington could face Gabriel on the battlefield - the Officer could kill her own brother! She was a Patriot and all of these factors made Lieutenant Colonel Tavington her enemy, even though she herself was not a soldier.

Beth rose from her bed and rummaged through the case containing her letters, until she found one from Gabriel. It was not very old, she received it shortly after he had fled with Burwell from Charles Town.

_My dear sister Beth_

_What a hellish week it has been, since we left Charles Town. We got away just in time. Cornwallis learned of our departure, though he could not pursue us himself. His column was too large, too slow. And so he set the Green Dragoons on us._

_We were warned of Tavington's pursuit, he had been riding hard and covered a very considerable distance in only two days in his haste to capture Governor Rutledge. Fear not, I was in no danger. Burwell sent the Governor ahead toward Hillsborough and I was part of the small escort under Major Bryant._

_Later however,_ _Burwell told me of the battle between the Continentals and Dragoons. The Colonel clashed with Tavington but do not fear for Burwell, he is alive and well, unwounded. I think it was wise of Aunt Charlotte to insist you stay with her until she is able to leave, considering the battle that was fought. It would have been dangerous and not the sort of sight I'd want you to witness._

_That Tavington... He is now being called a Butcher for his exploits during the skirmish. I was not there, but Peter Cuppin told me of it later. He said that Tavington was ruthless, reining death without mercy. His Green Dragoons went wild, blood thirsty, killing even those who tried to surrender._ _It was butchery, plain and simple, a massacre on a huge scale. Wounded men were even struck down, Beth. Wounded! Only one hundred soldiers managed to escape the field. _

_Tavington has earned his name of Butcher, of that I'm certain!_

_I am sorry, dear heart. I am simply so incensed over the battle. I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I can't help but worry for you and Aunt Charlotte, Aunt Mage and Cilla._

_We are making our way to the North now, and are not expecting to meet with the British again for a while._

_I am not looking forward to the next battle, I must say, though I am staying true to the cause. _

_We have had so many deserters, so many men giving up, from fear and from low moral. The lack of food is not helping either, we're living on barley and molasses. I do not think I have had the taste of meat in weeks!_ _I have lost so many friends, Beth... So many have died or deserted, it is heart breaking._

_Peter is sitting beside me, admonishing me for telling you of my worry and giving you such dreary tidings. He has asked me to pass along his greetings, he worries for his 'little sister' also._

_I am proud to be serving in such a worthy cause, Beth, but I can't help but wish we were all back at Fresh Water. It is early evening right now, you would be helping Mila to bathe Susan, and Margaret would be teaching Nathan and William their letters. Thomas would be causing his usual trouble with Abigail berating him. In just a little while, you would sit down to the pianola to play a few tunes while Thomas and I play at cards..._

_Such simple things, but I miss them so much. I remind myself it's what I am fighting for. Freedom..._

_You are never far from my thoughts, dear sister. Please write to me soon,_

_Your loving brother_

_Gabriel_

Beth lay back on her pillows and stared at the ceiling. Reading the letter again had sobered her, forced her to face the truth. She had thought of Gabriel several times during the day, of her brother facing Tavington in the field. Facing the enemy. His words bought it home to her now. And yes, it was sobering indeed.

She heaved a sigh and wished she'd not agreed to further meetings with the British Officers - either of them.

::::


	8. Chapter 8 - Tavington

**Chapter Eight - Tavington's Mistress**

William lay in bed with one arm folded beneath his head, his other hand gently caressing his erection as he waited for his mistress, Vera, to join him. She would have heard him come home by now, would be sneaking through the quiet house toward his room. William smiled with anticipation. His mind thought back to his evening with the Putman's and Beth.

_How easily I have won them over,_ he thought as he continued to stroke himself idly.

He could be brutal when he need to be, charming when he wanted to be. His mission this evening had been to earn the Putman's regard, especially Mr. Putman and his daughter Cilla. Mr. Putman could keep William away from Beth with ease, if he did not like William. Cilla presented an entirely different problem - she could speak against him to Beth, causing doubts that could disrupt William's seduction. Cilla was still a problem, she had not warmed to him at all, but Mr. and Mrs. Putman had been charmed.

And most importantly, Beth herself had been charmed also.

_Such soft skin,_ he thought as he remembered caressing her cheek and neck. _Like silk._

He thought giving her the rose had been a stroke of genius. And then later, how she blushed when he asked for a ribbon! William laughed. What an innocent she was.

_Vera better get here soon, or I'll be spent already! _William's grip tightened on his erection, his hand moving faster. Breathing heavily, he thought back to earlier in the day, when he had kissed her. He had kept the long kisses mostly chaste, but in his fantasy he pulled her hard against him and gave her a hard, crushing kiss. In his fantasy, his hands moved over the front of her bodice to squeeze the lovely orbs contained within. She gasped and gazed at him with the innocent desire of one new to such passions.

He groaned, feeling his pleasure building, just as Vera finally slipped into the room. Panting quietly, William removed his hand from his yard.

"William, are you awake?" Vera asked as she moved toward the bed. Tavington remained still as she drew closer and when she was bent over the bed he shot out with his hands and grabbed her. Vera gasped as William threw her onto the bed, then sighed when he threw her skirts around her waist.

"Are you ready for me, Vera?" He asked her harshly. He had almost been about to climax when she came in and he did not want to waste time on pleasuring her.

"I'm always ready for you, William," she replied. "See?" She dipped her own fingers down to stroke herself. When she raised her hand, William saw her fingers glistening in the candlelight. He laughed, a primal, guttural laugh. Moving quickly, he guided her legs apart with his knees before settling between her thighs. He held himself propped on his arms above her and nudged his member between her legs.

"Guide me in, Vera." William rasped.

"You're in such a hurry tonight," Vera complained as she placed her hands on his length and guided him to her entrance.

Still holding himself above her, William gave an almighty shove forward and with a grunt, buried himself to the hilt inside her. He wasted no time on niceties, pulling back and shoving forward, grunting from the effort. Sweat soon slicked his forehead and shoulders, as he stroked into Vera relentlessly. He was not concerned with her pleasure at all, though he was dimly aware, in some far away corner of his mind that was still coherent, of Vera's moans and her fingers pressing his buttocks to encourage him deeper.

His mind was on Beth as he continued battering into Vera. He had gone from kissing her to pressing her against a tree, his hand was up her skirts, running along her smooth thighs above her gartered stockings.

_His hand moved up further to cup her between her legs, and she writhed and moaned against his palm, gasping for breath. When he drew his hand back to unbutton his breeches, she sighed with disappointment. Once his breeches where down, William lifted her quickly and pressed her against the tree again, entering her in one long stroke._

_"Oh!" Beth gasped with pain as her maidenhead was torn asunder. "Sir, oh Lord!"_

_"So tight, agh - Beth!" He grunted in her ear as he pushed forward and back._

_"Hurts, oh, please, slowly, slowly!" Beth had tears leaking from her eyes but after a few more strokes, her pained expression eased, surprise taking its place._

_"Thats it darling, the worst is over," he whispered. "It will be wondrous now."_

_"Oh, yes... Wondrous, oh dear heart!" Beth met his thrusts, her expression had changed from virginal innocence to utter wanton. She gripped his shoulders and turned her face to his, claiming his lips in a long, searing kiss. "Deeper, dear heart. Teach me all the wonderful things you can do to me."_

_"With pleasure," William moaned. He planted his feet into the ground to brace himself and began to roger her hard and fast. The wager was not the important part - it was merely the cherry on top of the cake. This was the part he craved, the deflowering of Burwell's bride, the claiming of her maidenhead. She was his now. Not Banastre's or Burwell's, not that stupid little Watson boy! She was all his._

William's face twisted with pleasure and he growled low in his throat. Heat suffused his body, a thrilling tension as he punched into Vera's heat. Their hips slapped together as he pounded ever harder. He shifted his weight to one arm and gripped the headboard with his free hand. His hair dropped about his face as he lowered his head and grunted as he finally came, gaining the release he had been so desperate for all evening.

He held himself rigid above Vera as he tried to catch his breath, before finally collapsing alongside of her.

_I think she climaxed... _Tavington mused, not really caring. _Agh dear Christ, what a wonderful fantasy. Would Miss Martin be so good as that?_

"Good Lord, man, what has come over you?" Vera complained. "I'm going to be sore for a week!"

"What is the problem, woman?" Tavington panted, his tone thick with displeasure. "You climaxed! I felt you."

"My problem, William, is that you were already as hard as a rock when I came in. Who where you with tonight? I know you have a wandering eye!" Vera accused angrily. She rose from the bed to look for a kerchief to wipe herself with. Her eyes fell on the silk ribbon on William's nightstand and she grabbed it with a hiss, shaking it at him accusingly. "Huh! I knew it - a Ladies ribbon! Who gave you this?!"

"Put it down, Vera," Tavington commanded in a cold voice.

Vera, not sensing the danger, curled her lip with anger and walked over toward the fireplace. William was out of the bed like a shot, his face twisted with fury. He grabbed her wrist in an iron grip before she could throw Beth's silk ribbon into the flames.

Then, before reasonable thought could stop him, he raised his hand and slapped Vera hard across the face.

She whirled to the side, then turned slowly back to him, her eyes wide open with shock and her hand on her stinging cheek. William was shocked himself, at the violence of his reaction. His handprint was vivid on her face and her eyes teared at once.

_Its only a fucking ribbon, _he growled to himself. _I will have to make it up to her, or she may not return to my bed. _She was the only thing that made his nights in the Tisdale home even remotely interesting.

He shook his head, vexed with himself. Still, he pried the ribbon free from her grip and put it safely out of her reach. Then he turned back to her and still she stared at him with shock - and even a little fear.

"Who is she?" Vera asked, on the verge of tears.

"No one, Vera," Tavington lied. _A lovely innocent little Colonial girl whose maidenhead I intend to claim, come Hell or high water._ "I received a letter from my sister this morning, she sent it as a keepsake."

"Then there is no one else?" Vera asked plaintively as she stroked her stinging cheek.

"No one, my dear. Come back to bed." William led Vera by the hand and she lay down on the bed. Although he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go to sleep, he knelt between Vera's legs to pleasure her into forgiving him the slap. Before long she writhed and moaned under his tongue, her hips bucking and gripping his unbound hair.

William smiled, knowing she would return to him. He was not quite ready to give her up yet, after all. A few more days, perhaps, but not just yet.

::::::::::::::::

Tavington awoke during the night. Vera had left him, seeking her own bed rather than be caught in his. Reaching across to the nightstand, he felt for his pocket watch, then held it up to a candle to check the time.

"Hmm, only eleven", he murmured. He had thought it was later. He placed the watch back on the night stand and turned over, ready to go back to sleep. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, he gave it up as useless. His entire body was tense, edgy. His muscles would not relax, his mind would not stop working. Sleep was beyond him now, he knew.

"Bordon will be at the tavern," he said aloud, throwing off his blankets and rising to his feet. He had already had relations twice that day, he doubted he would be able to make love again until the morning at least. There were always card games, however. Card games and the company of his men.

Dressing himself quickly, he stamped his feet into his boots and headed out of the house.

::::

The pretty blonde barmaid that Tavington had had his eye on was sitting in Bordon's lap. Lucky bastard. William felt he could possibly get an erection after all, if Miss Harmony Jutland was to work on him! But the woman disdained his advances and seemed to favor his Captain over all of the other men at the table.

They played round after round of Faro, drank round after round of whiskey, until they were too broke and too spent to continue. In the wee hours of the morning, Tavington and Bordon rode their mounts back to the Tisdale residence, singing bawdy tunes all the way. Bordon had disappeared for a while during the gameplay, Tavington wondered idly if he and that Miss Jutland had found a quiet moment for a quick rogering. Bordon certainly seemed content enough, relaxed as only a man can be after coupling.

Before retiring to his bed, Tavington penned a quick note to Beth, informing her that he would call on her during the day. He worded it as romantically as he could - not an easy task being as soused with whiskey as he was at that moment. Signing it with a flourish, he waved the missive dry and called for a slave to ensure the letter was delivered first thing in the morning.

The he threw himself on top of the bed without bothering to undress, and was snoring loudly in moments.

::::

Beth darted up the stairs and dashed into her room. Mila, seeing her 'mistress' was in a distraught state, slipped into the room behind her.

"What is it?" She asked with concern. "Whats happening."

"Oh, he's coming to see me again," Beth declared. She held the note out to Mila. "Today sometime - oh, what if he comes right now? I'm not ready to receive - I'm a mess!"

"He won't come this early, Missy and you're not a mess at all!" Mila laughed at Beth's anguish. "Come, sit down. I'll get you readied."

"Thank you," Beth sat on the chair heavily. "Oh, dear Lord - what is it about him that has me so flustered? I had determined last night that I did not care, that I did not want to see him. But look here," she stared at the missive as Mila began working on Beth's already perfectly done hair. "His writing..." she sighed. "He wrote this..."

"Read it to me," Mila said. She could read - Beth and her sister Margaret had both taught her, but she was busy and so Beth began to read the note.

_"Miss Martin,_

_Though the hour is late, I find myself unable to sleep. Thoughts of you plague me, such a lovely creature you are. Forgive me for being so forward, but I find I am unable to help myself. I must declare my infatuation with you. I have not had a more pleasurable time with a young lady as I had with you yesterday and last evening. I would sincerely like to repeat the experience and am looking forward to seeing you again soon._

_I will endeavor to visit with you tomorrow, though I can not stipulate a time just now. Suffice it to say, I shall count the hours until we are reunited. I do not believe I will get another wink of sleep for the entire night, such are my thoughts of you!_

_I have the honor to be, your one true admirer,_

_Will. Tavington_

_Lt. Col._

::

Beth sighed and pressed the missive to her breast.

"Oh, if only Zeke was as... Whats the word... Eloquent? As your Tavington!" Mila laughed.

Beth smiled. She placed the letter on the table before her and smoothed out the creases carefully before placing it in her diary with her other keepsake - the rose.

"There," Mila said, "all finished, unless you decide to be fussy again."

"No, its perfect," Beth said as she gazed at herself critically. "Do you think I need powder?"

"Hell no!" Mila gasped, forgetting herself enough to curse - Beth had never worn powder before. "No, you do not. Do you want to change dresses?"

"Ah... Well... No, I better not. Cilla will become suspicious and tease me. What I am wearing should be suitable," Beth gazed down at her silks uncertainly.

"Miss Putman will tease you?" Milla scoffed. "Shouldn't you be worried that _I'll_ tease you?"

"Oh, I know that you will," Beth quipped. "But I can deal with you - if Cilla starts, then I'll be copping it from two sides!"

Someone knocked on Beth's door and Mila went to answer it.

"Miss Martin has a Gentleman caller," the young slave in the hallway announced.

Beth gasped and placed her hands over her mouth - her heart beat wildly.

"Tavington?" She asked hopefully from her chair.

"No, Miss - Lieutenant Colonel Tarleton."

"Oh," Beth deflated instantly. "I'll be right down."

Mila shut the door on the servant and turned back to Beth. Meeting her friends eyes, she instantly saw Beth's distress.

"He'll come later, I'm sure," Mila reassured her.

"Yes, I'm sure," Beth said. "He would not have sent that note otherwise, surely?"

"No. Besides, it's good that the other one has come - two men courting you, three if you include Watson. This Tavington fellow is bound to hear of it and he'll be real jealous!"

"Oh, I didn't look at it like that!" Beth brightened at once. It was not a particularly Lady-like way to behave, using suitors to make a favorite suitor jealous... But just then, Beth did not particularly care.

:::::::::

The sun blazed down on their backs but thankfully, a gentle wind stirred a sea breeze, cooling them as they strode along the wharves. Beth strolled at Banastre's side with her hand looped through the crook of his arm. Cilla and Rebecca walked a little ahead, and the Ladies maids - all three of them including Mila, walked a little behind them all. Beth looked over her shoulder and shot Mila a sympathetic glance.

_"At least we're outside,"_ Mila mouthed. Beth nodded, they really needed to go for walks along the wharves more often. It was a truly beautiful sight - and impressive also.

"So many ships," Beth said aloud. "I've never seen anything like it!"

At least twenty-five ships were moored in the harbor, some of them were docked quite close and they seemed to loom over them.

"They are so big," she continued, wide eyed with awe.

Banastre laughed down at her. He was not all that much taller than Beth, she realised. Tavington towered over her, where she barely had to lift her head back to meet Banastre's gaze. Still, he had as powerful presence as William, he did not need to be as tall.

"You would not think they were so big if you were stuck in one of the cabins for eight weeks," he said now with a small smirk.

"Hmm, no doubt. Was it an eventful crossing?"

"I was busy, it went quickly. There are no idle hands on a ship - the Admiral made use of us all. The crossing itself was rough - not an experience I care to repeat," he frowned with remembrance. In truth, the crossing had been horrid. They had lost many horses - and several men had died also. No - not a pleasant crossing indeed - but far too dull a subject to speak of on such a fine day with such a beautiful woman.

"I've been to London," Rebecca called over her shoulder. "I've made that crossing - but it was mostly calm. I enjoyed it, though it was tedious at times."

Banastre quirked an eyebrow, surprised that anyone could enjoy being stuck on a ship for eight weeks, calm or not. He said as much and Rebecca laughed.

"Oh, but London was the destination, Sir, and I kept that in the forefront of my mind the entire way!" She announced. Cilla laughed and the two began discussing Rebecca's many trips to London.

"Have you ever been?" Banastre asked Beth now. Several sea gulls circled above their heads, squawking and fighting over morsels of stolen fish.

"No, no..." Beth shook her head. "I'm afraid Charles Town is the sum total of my worldliness."

"Ah," Banastre thought he understood and decided to change the subject. Though the girl wore silks along with her friends, he and William both agreed it was with thanks to Mrs. Charlotte Selton's generosity. From what they understood, Beth's father was of middling wealth at best.

Which was not the case of all, if truth be told. Benjamin Martin was a wealthy planter, he simply desired to live a... simpler... life. While he could more than afford a manor house in Charles Town, he chose not to purchase one. Chose to live his life out on the Santee where he felt he belonged. Besides, there were two perfectly good and welcoming manor houses in Charles Town when ever he needed them - both Charlotte's and Mark's.

"London is a sadder place for it," Banastre continued. "Would you like to go aboard a ship now? I can show you around -"

"Would I?" Beth gasped with excitement. "Cilla, Becky, did you hear that? Banastre's taking us onboard!"

"Ohh, which one?" Cilla exclaimed. She pointed at a particularly well appointed looking man o' war - one of the largest and more expensive in the harbor. Typical woman. "I like that one!"

Banstre laughed. "Alas, while you have proved your good taste Miss Putman, that particular ship belongs to Sir Henry Clinton and is off limits to the likes of us. But this one should suit our purposes."

He strode toward the gangplank leading toward _The Kings Defender. _It was a large enough ship to impressive the girls, Banastre noticed as they walked along the broadside of the ship, Beth's eyes grew wider and wider with awe.

"I feel so small," she whispered.

"You _are_ so small," he smiled down at her warmly. Beth smiled back up at him and Banastre's breath caught. He took the opportunity to pull her closer, giving them more of an appearance of sweethearts to onlookers. "But sweet things come in small packages."

Beth's cheeks reddened - again. He had given her many such compliments that morning and her cheeks turned crimson each time. Rather endearing, that.

After a brief exchange with the sentries guarding the entrance, Banastre was allowed access to the ship. He jumped down from the gangplank to the deck - a short step, and then helped each of the girls down carefully, keeping hold of Beth's hand when he assisted her. The deck moved gently beneath their feet as the ship moved and swayed gently in its moorings.

"Oh that would take getting used to," Beth said. She stared down at the deck as though trying to find a focal point to keep her balance. She gripped Banastre's hand tightly, even moved her free arm across her body to grip Banastre's forearm with tight fingers.

"You wouldn't make a very good sailor, Miss Martin," Banastre laughed though he was certainly enjoying having her cling to him.

"Yes, this is nothing," Rebecca announced with a grin. Her smile faltered when she saw how cosy Banastre and Beth seemed, how solicitous he was of her friend. She met Cilla's gaze with a melancholy expression - she had become quite enamoured of the British Officer herself. She sighed sadly, the enjoyment of being on the large warship dulled slightly.

"She does not regard him - not in that way," Cilla whispered reassurance, sensing her friends distress. "She likes..." She glanced over her shoulder and her expression became disaproving. "The other one, Tavington."

"Yes, I know. But he - Tarleton - likes _her_... Not me."

Cilla sighed sympathetically and wound her arm through Rebecca's.

Banastre noticed nothing of the exchange, so fixated he was on Beth. He was describing various items of interest as he led her around the deck. When they reached the largest mast in the centre of the ship, Beth had to crane her neck to see the very tip of the mast.

"It's so high... from this vantage it looks like its touching the sky."

"Its not quite that high," he laughed. "But yes, I see what you mean." He took a good long look and yes, from their viewpoint, the tip of the mast certainly appeared as though it was touching the sky.

"Can we go downstairs?" Beth asked innocently. "I want to see what the cabins look like and the... gully?"

"Yes, we can go below decks," he corrected. Already anticipating how he could get Beth alone in one of the cabins for a just a few minutes to attempt a quick kiss, Banastre led the way down a ladder, below decks. There were plenty of sailors and Officers aboard ship, but none of them paid the women - who were being escorted by Tarleton, any mind. The corridors were dim and narrow, running the length of the ship. He took them to the gully first and showed them the small mess hall where the Officers ate. Then it was off to the cabins. After much knocking on doors, he found several empty cabins. He indicated for Rebecca and Cilla to view one while he took Beth along a little further to the next empty cabin.

Must to his chagrin, however - the girls would not be separated. Cilla followed instantly, the moment she understood Banastre's intentions. Beth seemed oblivious but Cilla's eyes were as sharp as a hawks. Banastre sighed as they all trundled into the same small, confining cabin.

"So, there you have it," he announced, trying to keep the disappointment from his tone. "This is were you would sleep, Miss Martin - for eight whole weeks. What do you think?"

Beth glanced around the small room, at the hard looking bunks, the tables that were secured to the floor.

"I don't think I'd like it at all..." she murmured. "I take it those tables are secured for rough seas?"

"Indeed," Banastre nodded. "Though it does not stop the items on the table falling to the floor. I've lost many a flagon of ale..." He said mournfully.

The girls giggled and began making their way out into the corridor. Beth was not gripping his arm anymore, but she did keep her hand wound through his. It would have to be enough for now, he decided, stealing a quick and longing glance at her lips... The women clambered back up the ladder - not an easy feat with their long skirts - out onto the deck.

"Now a few decks down, you will find our canons to either side of the ship. They fire just about any projectile we shove in there - from heavy chains and other heavy items made of metal. Quite nasty, when they strike their targets - the damage done can be both impressive and devastating."

The girls shuddered. Banastre continued to list facts about the warships as the girls continued to their inspection of the deck. They listened carefully and asked questions - Banastre was quite in his element. Until he said something that the girls disliked very much - especially the Patriot Cilla and Beth.

"What was that, Banastre?" Beth frowned. She still held his arm but was leaning over the large, eight spoked, ships wheel.

"I was saying that it can not be pleasant for the captives below decks," he repeated. "They were all bundled aboard the ships when we took Charles Town. And there they are still, in the holds. Easily ten men per hold - they have no light and barely enough room to lay down."

Beth and Cilla both stared at him, wide eyed with shock. He groaned to himself, knowing instantly that he'd said the wrong thing.

"_Continental_ captives?" Beth asked softly. She pulled her arm from his nook and he stared back, wondering how in the world he could salvage this. "There were five thousand soldiers taken captive with the fall of Charles Town, Sir," she said coolly. "Do you mean to tell me that five thousand men are in the holds of these ships - in smaller confines than the cabin we just left? On this very ship - as well as the others?"

"Well..." He said hesitantly. "There are not five thousand, not any more. Many of the have..."

_Died._

_Shit on a stick - I can't tell them that! _He swiftly changed what he had been about to say.

"Many of them have accepted Clinton's offer of amnesty. They have made their apologies and are now serving in our own British ranks."

Rebecca nodded with aproval but if anything, Beth and Cilla became even colder.

"I think I wish to leave now," Beth announced, appalled at learning - all over again - that Continentals were abandoning the Cause. She took hold of Cilla's arm and the two women began to walk - stiffly and silently - back to the gangplank.

_Shit on a stick!_ Banastre growled to himself as he helped Rebecca off the ship. He berated himself harshly as he followed the two offended women, who were walking quickly ahead of him. Why the Devil had he mentioned the prisoners! The day had been progressing perfectly well, he had been enjoying himself immensely, as had the women! As for the captives, the strongest ones where living, of course, but Banastre had to admit that quite a few dead bodies had been removed from the holds of the ships. It was a necessary evil, however. Where else where they meant to be put? Those that forsook the cause and swore to fight for the King were freed - they could all be freed if they weren't so fool hardy and stubborn!

Rebecca glanced at him with worry and Banastre eased his dark expression. After a deep breath, he quickened the pace to catch up with the cousins.

"I would like to take you all out for a nice meal, if you would allow," he announced in his usual, jovial manner. The girls did not warm but they agreed, and Banastre bent himself to the task of lifting their spirits. First he chose an affluent tavern - one respectable enough for the noble Ladies. He asked the tavern keep for a private dining room, and when they were all seated, he began to tell them stories - amusing stories - of his younger days as a Cornet. Rebecca was laughing almost immediately and finally, her amusement and Banastre's forced cheer bought the Patriot girls out of their angry mood.

By the time he escorted each of the women home - first Rebecca then Cilla and Beth, everything was almost back to normal. He had salvaged what he could of the situation and when it was time to depart, Beth smiled warmly and offered her hand when he asked for it, and he planted a lingering kiss on her fingers - wishing all the while they were her lips.

"I hoped you enjoyed your day, Miss Martin," he said warmly.

"I did, it was wonderful," her expression darkened slightly as she remembered the captives aboard ship. "Mostly wonderful," she frowned.

"Might I drop in on you tomorrow?" He asked in a rush, he did not want her thoughts lingering on the unpleasant situation of the Continental soldiers taken prisoner.

"Yes, I would like that very much," she said. "A picnic perhaps? Or a walk through the Middleton grounds - Rebecca's house is a monument worth seeing in itself. I think I would like to stay away from the wharves now."

"Of course," he said sympathetically, stifling and relieved sigh. "We shall do anything you desire."

Another kiss, a longing gaze into her eyes and Banastre departed from Beth's Uncle's house.

:::

_A/N: Sorry for the 'shit on the stick' statement. I've no idea if they would have said such a thing back then but my mother said it all the time when I was growing up and I thought it sounded suitably 'old'. _

_"What are we having for dinner mum?"_

_"Shit on a stick."_

_Ah, those where the days... Hehehe_


	9. Chapter 9 - Tavernton Shenanigans

Chapter 9 - Tavernton Shenanigans

"Another hand?" Bordon asked as he shuffled the cards. The Dragoons were seated around a table, drinking whiskey and gambling. As a particularly buxom maid wandered by, Bordon snaked out his hand and gave her bottom a pat. The blonde woman whipped around, ready to give the rough side of her tongue to the soldier who would dare accost her, but when her green eyes settled on Bordon her anger melted. She gave him a lopsided grin.

Bordon winked at her and mouthed 'later'. The maid gave a giggle and a nod, swaying her hips suggestively as she strolled away, knowing full well her Captain's eyes where on her.

"Good Lord, Richard! You've managed to roger _that_ one?" Banastre's eyes were open wide with utter disbelief. "I've been working on her for days! She is completely resistant to my charms!"

Bordon grinned with pleasure.

"Charms?" he scoffed as he dealt the hand, his fingers moving quickly as the cards whipped across the table, making a small pile in front of each officer.

"Don't feel to badly, Ban," Tavington gazed at the buxom maid longingly. "She has no taste, that's all."

"Yes. Of course," Bordon laughed. "When they refuse the two of you, they either have no taste or prefer other women."

"Other women?" Private Simms asked. The young Colonial was newly recruited from the powerful South Carolinian family and so far, he was proving himself to be woefully innocent. "What do you mean?"

"What do you _mean_, what do you mean?" Banastre asked, stupefied. "Other _women_, lad! Surely you know?"

"I take it he does not," William snorted at the young Loyalist's confusion. "Boy, did your parents never tell you what happens between a_ man and a woman_?"

"Well, my Pa did -"

"He did not tell you enough!" Banastre laughed. "He obviously did not get to what wondrous things can happen between a _woman and a woman_!"

"You mean..." Simms blushed crimson and when the older, more worldly Officers laughed uproariously, he hung his head with embarrassment.

"William?" Banastre whispered conspiratorially across the table as though he was about to impart a great secret.

"Hmmm?" William kept his face smooth as he eyed his cards, not allowing the others to see that Bordon had dealt him a _bloody_ good hand.

"Me thinks there is a _virgin_ at the table!" Banastre whispered loudly and pointed his finger at Simms. Bordon shot Simms a mock sympathetic glance.

"Me thinks you are right!" Tavington smirked.

"So what are we going to do about it? We don't play with virgins!"

"We don't?" Bordon chuckled. "Since when?" He shared a glance with Tavington and the two men began to laugh.

"We don't play _cards_ with virgins, Bordon!" Tarleton amended with a fatalistic roll of his eyes.

"Sir's, please!" Simms muttered, completely mortified.

_These men are _**_Gentlemen_**_? What would father say if he were hearing this?_ Simms thought to himself. He glanced at the other Officers, conflicted. _Lord, I want to be accepted by the Dragoon's so bad!_

"So, what is to be done, hmmm?" Tavington mused, his lips were quirked up and he eyed Simms with amusement.

"Get the boy rogered!" Banastre cried decisively and banged the table with his closed fist. The glasses on the table rattled and some slopped whiskey over the edges.

"Make him a man!" Bordon chanted his agreement.

"Here here! Drink up, lad!" Tavington poured Simms a whiskey and handed it to the seventeen year old Loyalist. "For tonight, you will complete the final faze of your journey to become a Dragoon. Tonight we shall make you a man!"

"Hoorah!" Bordon and Tarleton shouted. The tavern was filled with soldiers, some turned to see what the shouting was about before turning back to their own card and dice games.

Arthur Simms glanced at his cards and his eyes opened wide. He tried, unsuccessfully to smooth his face - a straight poker face to not show he held a good hand.

He did not see the smirk Tarleton and Tavington shared between them. On impulse, and because he felt he would be able to wipe young Simms clean, Banastre dipped into his pockets and threw £10 on the table.

Tavington laughed, knowing Tarleton thought he was in for a sure win. Then again, William had been far more succesful at hiding his own hand than young Simms had been. He threw the same amount - £10, also.

"What are you two playing at?" Richard Bordon asked. He did not like to gamble such large amounts, chiefly because he did not like to _lose_ such large amounts! Though he was from a wealthy family and his parents sent him a large stipend, he still did not losing it - not to these fellows!

"Just playing the game, Dick!" Tarleton taunted and picked up the first card from the deck. Thoughts of women, and getting Simms rogered, fled as the men began to play.

William did not know how much time had gone by, or how many hands they played. He eyed the pile of coins before him appreciatively, then with a smile he glanced up at Banastre, who had his head buried in his hands.

"Not again..." the auburn haired Officer moaned. "Lord... How much did I lose? No - don't tell me..."

"Alright, then. I will not." Tavington smirked as he pocketed the coins. "Besides, we have other business now - we need to choose a young pretty for young Arthur!"

"Oh, no, it is really not necessary," Arthur said hurriedly. He had hoped the Officers had forgotten. They were all eyeing him knowingly, and Bordon gave him a wink. Arthur sighed. _They have not forgotten..._

"Cheer up lad! We'll have you in heaven soon enough!" Banastre rose from the table and clapped Simms on the back. Arthur grunted and lurched forward, pain flaring in his shoulder. He rose from the table slowly and followed the Officers through the crowded tavern to the rooms at the back. He hung back and blushed, watching while Tavington and Tarleton argued over which 'wench' would do for him.

_They are awfully pretty... But will they want to lay with me? _He thought worriedly.

William reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful off coins. Without even looking to see how much he was handing over, he gave them to a pretty black haired girl with green eyes. The girl's eyes brightened when she saw the coins, she pocketed them quickly and put her arms around William's neck ready for a kiss.

"No, not me, darling. Him." Tavington turned the girl, still in the circle of his arms, to gaze at Arthur. "What do you think, dear?"

"Oh, he is cute... I think I'd like him very much."

Arthur blushed crimson again and the girl drew away from Tavington to take Arthur's hand.

"You'll need to take good care of him, darling," Tarleton put in. "You'll be Christening him, if you take my meaning."

"OH, a virgin!" The girl started to laugh. "Oh, my dear... The good Colonel's have chosen well, picking me for you!"

As she led Arthur from the room, she shot a glance over her shoulder at Tavington to mouth a question, "Later?"

Tavington smiled and gave a lazy shrug.

"Bordon...? Ah... Bordon..." Banatre watched as the blonde girl from earlier - Miss Harmony Jutland - rubbed herself against Bordon. His hands where wrapped around her backside, gripping her tight, as their tongues dueled as they moaned.

"Captain Bordon!" Tavington snapped, using his voice of command. Bordon jumped back, stood to attention and saluted his commanding Officer. The reaction was instant and natural but when Tavington and Tarleton howled with laughter, Bordon scowled at them.

"Bastards," Richard muttered.

"We are going upstairs, Dick. You coming?" Banastre asked as he eyed Bordon's pretty up and down suggestively.

"No, Sir," Harmony answered for the Captain. "_Dick_ and I are just fine here..."

Banastre sighed with disappointment, a sentiment shared by Tavington it seemed. William gave another lazy shrug and went to flirt with another young lovely.

"Did they really think I would take them, as well?" Harmony asked her Captain Bordon.

"Yes, my dear... It seems they have had their eye on you -"

"More than their eyes, dear heart. I do not know how many times I have had to push that pretty red haired hands off my bottom, and that Tavington is just as bad. Especially when they have been drinking! I do not want either of them...

"You are a rare bird indeed then, darling. Most women fall at their feet."

"Don't I know it! The girls here talk of little else. I am sure they are going to cry on their pillows when the army leaves Charles Town."

"Speaking of which, have you thought some more about my proposal?"

Harmony was not a doxy, strictly speaking. She worked at the tavern as a barmaid and she did take the occasional man to her bed, but never for coin. They paid her in other ways, of course - supplying her with jewels or lovely dresses - or helping her to pay her rent and board. But these were the functions of lovers - the privilege of having her as a mistress. She could still count on one hand how many men she had bedded, Bordon being her fourth. He was her latest and only lover.

"What, follow the army and become a camp whore?" Harmony asked sharply.

"No, Harmony. Not a whore. You would be my mistress..." Bordon nibbled her ear. "Come darling, I can't think of another woman I would want at my side more..."

"As your mistress, not your wife..."

"Who knows what the future holds?" Bordon asked, though he doubted very much it would involve marriage to Harmony, as much as he admired her. "Will you not be happy as my mistress, for now? You do not want to remain here, do you?"

Harmony sighed, trying to picture what life would be like with her handsome Captain gone. She had only known him a short while, but she did not like the idea of being left behind. "No, I do not. Alright, then, Captain Dick. I will come with you."

"Captain Dick!" Bordon gripped her waist and shook her with feigned anger.

Harmony laughed and placed her hand over Bordon's bulge, feeling the outline of his hard erection within his breeches. "Yes, my sweet. Captain Dick indeed!"

Bordon laughed and grabbed her by the hand. "You have made me the happiest of men, dear Harmony, for agreeing to come with me."

They strolled hand in hand through the corridors, almost catching up to William and Banastre as they disappeared up the stairs with their chosen pretties.

"They did not waste any time," Harmony laughed.

"They never do."

Bordon and Harmony climbed the stairs and caught sight of his superiors again when they reached the next landing, just as the two men disappeared into the same room with their doxies.

"There are enough rooms!" Harmony gasped. "Why are they going into one room! How miserly!"

"Its not the coin, love," Bordon smiled. "The two men compete at everything, even lovemaking. They sometimes like to be in the same room, so that they can hear each other's women in the throws of pleasure. They judge their prowess by getting their own woman to moan louder."

"Good Lord! Are you joking?" Harmony began to laugh, then she smiled as an idea came to her. "Have you ever 'measured your prowess' against them by bedding a woman where they can hear her?"

"No," Bordon laughed. "But I see the gleam in your eye, love. I think I am about to do just that!"

"Oh, yes, Captain Dick, you certainly are!" Harmony pressed her back against the door Tavington and Tarleton had disappeared into a few moments before, and lifted her skirts for Bordon - right there in the corridor.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tavington stepped through the door first and held it open for Linda, Tarleton and Mariah. He closed the door and turned to survey the room, well pleased with what he saw. There were two single beds against the walls on either side of the room, separated by a folding screen.

Tavington was used to bedding women with other men close by, there was not a lot of privacy in camp. He had not been a Lieutenant Colonel, with his own tent, for all that long. When he and Banastre had been 'Privates' they had to couple with their women in each others company more often than not and they would often boast and tease each other afterwards, each believing he was the better lover.

Tarleton had already led Mariah to their bed on one side of the screen. Tavington smiled and took Linda's hand, leading her to his bed. She was a pretty thing, especially when she smiled. Though Tavington saw her teeth were crooked and she tried to hide it by covering her hand over her mouth when she laughed.

He rolled his eyes as Tarleton started. As if he was alone, Banastre launched into a flourishing speech, describing Mariah's beauty to her in detail. "Oh, Mariah you are lovely. How darling you are! Ah, yes, let down your beautiful hair - so long, oh how it gleams in the candlelight! What lovely skin - pale as milk, oh your breasts, gorgeous my dear, your skin - so smooth!"

William shook his head as he sat on the edge of the bed. It was typical Tarleton, the man never ceased talking at the best of times, not even while in the arms of a beautiful woman. Again, Tavington was used to it. Linda smiled and stood between Tavington's legs to place her hands on his broad shoulders.

"Can I take your hair down, Sir?" She asked. She had always thought Tavington was the most handsome man she had ever seen and he was certainly her favorite patron. When he shrugged his shoulders she reached around behind his head to remove his ribbon and unbind his hair from its queue. She gently pulled his dark hair forward so it framed his handsome face and sighed appreciatively.

"Yes, my dear?" William asked with a smirk.

_He wants me to say it. Lord, if he knew I had fallen in love with him... I wonder if he would still come to me, if he did know? Probably not... He has a cruel streak, this man I love._

"You are the most handsome of men, darling," She murmured, meaning it. She ignored Tarleton's scoff from the other side of the screen.

_Well, he bloody is!_

Tavington smiled up at her knowingly. His hands moved up and down her waist, eventually moving slowly over the front of her bodice. Banastre was still speaking softly to Mariah as William unbuttoned Linda's bodice. He drew it down her back, Linda pulled her arms free of the sleeves.

"Turn around my dear," William murmured. His eyes where hooded with desire, his voice warm. She turned around and could feel the Officer's clever fingers quickly unlace her stays. She turned back to him and drew her shift over her head. William sat back with a sigh to view the sight before him. Linda stood naked except for her thigh high stockings and garters.

"Now, that is a beautiful sight, Linda," Tavington murmured. His eyes roamed over her breasts and waist, lower to the patch of dark hair between her legs.

"Let me see!" The ever spontaneous Banastre said as he pulled back the screen. "Hmmm, yes, Linda, you certainly are." He gave a short laugh and pulled the screen back.

"I do not know why you two insist on the same room, Sir."

"We don't _always_ insist on it, dear. Turn around." Linda shook her head but did as she was told. "Let your hair down." As she reached up and began pulling the pins from her hair she felt Tavington's hands softly stroke her backside. Her hair fell down, just past her shoulders.

"I wish it was longer," Tavington murmured as he toyed with her hair. Linda decided then and there to start growing it out.

She turned to face him again. William moved his hands over her large breasts, hefting their weight in his palms. He pulled her forward and nestled his face within the valley of her breasts for a moment, before taking one of her nipples in his mouth. Linda sighed with enjoyment.

"Ohh, that is lovely," she murmured. William smiled around her nipple and let his fingers trail down her sides and over her hips. He circled his tongue and nipped Linda's nipple before moving his mouth to her other breast. His fingers gently caressed through her patch of black curls.

"You're already moist my dear," Tavington said, louder this time.

"I always am when I am with you," Linda said, trying to hide her despair. She had never meant to fall in love with one of her patrons, she felt like such a fool. Tavington's smile broadened and she knew he was pleased with this admission.

Mariah, on the other side of the partition, began to moan. Linda could only guess at what Banastre might be doing with her, she could hear moist sounds and Tarleton grunting.

Tavington slid his fingers lower, searching for Linda's quim within her folds and continued his suckling of her nipples. Linda rocked back and forth against his fingers and moaned.

"Ah, my dear..." William murmured, "That is it, I enjoy hearing you in your pleasure. Moan as loud as you wish."

"Thats cheating," Linda heard Banastre say. It made no sense to her, though Tavington seemed to understand, he gave a low chuckle. Before long Linda forgot all about Banastre and Mariah. Her pleasure built and she began to moan, loud indeed.

William lowered his mouth to her moist centre and Linda gasped to feel the tip of his tongue questing within her folds. Still standing before him, she hooked one leg over his shoulder. William gasped with pleasure at the unexpected gesture. He hooked his hands beneath her buttocks and under her thigh, pulling her closer and questing deeper with his tongue.

"Ohhhhhh, Sir!" Linda hung her head forward to watch her amazing lover, sitting on the edge of the bed, as he pleasured her with his tongue. His eyes were closed and his face looked flushed in the candlelight. His mouth moved on her centre, across her folds slowly, almost lovingly. She gasped and her face twisted with the agony of pleasure. Her hands snaked around the back of his head to wind her fingers in his hair.

William still held his hands under her buttocks and thighs. He pulled one hand forward, back toward him in his search for her entrance with two fingers. He continued to taste her hardened quim, his tongue moving faster now, and when he found her entrance, he slid his fingers up inside her velvety depths with ease.

"Agh! Oh God!" Linda cried. She pushed down on his fingers, driving them deeper inside her. Tavington drove them in and out of her quickly. He nipped and sucked her aching pearl. Linda gripped Tavington's shoulders tight and bucked against his mouth and bore down on his fingers. She felt a pleasurable flip in her stomach, then another and another. Her spine was a thrill of warmth and sensation, it was building, building until,..

"Oh my God!" Linda shouted. "Oh - Oh, Lord! Oh, Colonel... Agh!" Linda's climax washed over her, strong pulses of pleasure surged through her as she came. She pulled her leg from his shoulder and collapsed in a heap to the floor where she gazed up at Lieutenant Colonel Tavington with adoration.

"Hmmm. Good idea, sweet Linda. You stay right there," William murmured. He rose and began to unbutton his breeches, shoving them down his thighs. Quickly discarding his boots, he pulled his breeches off his legs, his drawers quickly following.

"Too hot in here," William muttered. He unclasped the belts around his waist and across his chest. Before long his redcoat was thrown off his broad shoulders and he sat down again wearing only his white ruffled shirt, his long dark hair again framing his face.

In the meantime, Linda recovered from her powerful climax. She shifted to her knees and shuffled closer to her handsome patron, who gazed at her with anticipation. Kneeling before him between his legs, Linda smiled into his warm pale blue eyes, knowing what he wanted and only too pleased to oblige. She began by placing her hands on his knees. She ran her palms up and down his thighs, feeling the dark course hair beneath her fingers. Linda tilted her head up, inviting him to kiss her, knowing he would not. He never did. She covered her disappointment by smiling warmly and leaning forward to nip at his neck.

Her hands moved higher and she cupped his sack with one palm, softly massaging the wrinkly skin. Linda kissed and nibbled his neck and chest, the sparse hairs on his chest tickling her nose and lips. His heart was racing, she could feel it thumping wildly in his chest. Linda smiled, pleased she could bring such a reaction out of him. Her other hand moved to wrap around his erection and Tavington grunted with pleasure. Her thumb circled the bulbous head and moved over the little eye at the tip. She spread the droplets of seed around under her thumb, then began to pump her hand on his length with hard, firm strokes.

Tavington was happy to let her pleasure him this way for a little while - he had been aching in his breeches while he pleasured her with his tongue. And when she had hooked her leg around his neck - Dear Lord! He had wanted to throw her to the bed and roger her hard, but there was the wager.

£5 for whichever one of them could make their woman moan the loudest. He and Tarleton had worked out the wager before approaching Mariah and Linda. Just now, judging by the soft moans coming from the other side of the partition, Tavington suspected he, and not Tarleton, was going to be the victor.

Linda's tongue found his nipple and Tavington wrapped his fingers through her hair. He knew she had wanted him to kiss her, but that was not his desire, not with this woman. He rarely kissed his doxies, choosing to keep that something special for his mistresses. They deserved more of him than a common whore should receive. He closed his eyes as Linda moved lower. His shirt was open down the front to down his stomach. She drew away to lift his shirt, pulling it over his head.

He sat before the kneeling whore, completely naked except for his socks. Linda's hand was pumping his erection hard and fast as she rained soft kisses down his stomach, heedless of the thin line of hair that covered his torso. He swallowed hard as he watched her move lower, his eyes were riveted on her when she bent over him and finally took him into his mouth.

"Agh..." Tavington groaned.

"You right there, old boy?" Banastre called, his voice was husky with pleasure. Mariah was gasping, Tavington could hear the sounds of their skin slapping together.

"I'm in heaven," William replied thickly, Linda's tongue was licking him from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip and back down again in long slow strokes. "And you?"

"Oh, yes. Heaven..." Tarleton murmured.

Tavington jerked his head up when a pounding came on their door. It was not someone knocking. He frowned, wondering if someone was trying to break the door down. Suddenly, the door burst open -


	10. Chapter 10 - The door burst open and -

**Chapter Ten: The Door Burst Open and -**

"What, right here? You can't be serious, love!" Bordon exclaimed. He gazed down at Harmony, her skirts hiked around her thighs. Her legs were pale and shapely, Bordon licked his lips as he stared at them.

"Oh, I am serious, my lover. Right here, right now. They will bow to your prowess, my sweetness! I assure you!" Harmony laughed at Bordon's expression. She raised her skirts higher, past the garters holding her stockings around her thighs and higher again until they were bunched around her waist. "Well?" She asked, as she parted her legs.

"I can't pleasure you here! In the middle of the corridor! What if someone comes!"

"My love - believe me, someone will definitely come! Don't be so bashful - lets show them what you are capable of, these cocksure Colonels, that are always trying to drag me off to their bed. Perhaps I should let them, they seem to be far more adventurous than you!"

"Hell, no - you are mine!" Bordon growled. He dropped to his knees before her and with an ache between his legs he began to pleasure Harmony with his tongue, delving within her folds and circling her quim with hard strokes.

Still holding her skirts high with one hand, Harmony lowered her other hand, winding her fingers through Bordon's russet colored hair. Her heart was pounding and she gasped as a thrilling heat began to suffuse her body, emanating from her core. With a quick glance up and down the hallway, Harmony squeezed her eyes closed tight and began to rock her hips, moaning inarticulately and begging for more.

Bordon was ruthless, he dove two gloved fingers deep inside her, pumping them in and out while he nipped and suckled her quim, his breathing became ragged as his tongue pressed ever harder against her. It took a good few minutes, but Harmony finally came, her legs sagged, the force of her climax left her knees weak.

Bordon stood up and gazed at her flushed face, her full lips curled up in a silly smile of contentment. The ache in his breeches was unbearable, his fingers tore along the buttons of his breeches and he leaned forward to kiss Harmony hard. She could taste herself on his tongue and she moaned with enjoyment. Bordon frantically shoved his breeches down enough to free his aching erection. He lifted her to the door, wrapped her legs around his hips and entered her with one smooth stroke.

The door shook and creaked as Bordon impaled Harmony against it, buried within her hot, velvety cave to the hilt. His member jerked and twitched in response to being so thoroughly engulfed, the pleasure threatened to send him over the edge into madness. The moment passed, his body was under his control again and he began to slowly stroke in and out of her. He brushed his lips against hers softly at first, then as his need grew he kissed her more deeply, his tongue invaded her mouth. Bordon's heart was pounding so hard he imagined it could burst through his rib cage

"Oh, Richard!" Harmony moaned against his lips. "I could never let you go without me, oh, you are so wonderful!"

"I know," Bordon smirked, then laughed aloud when she struck him on the back of the head. "You are too, my darling Harmony." He crushed his lips to hers again and set to work. His muscled bunched under his shoulders with the effort of holding her and his buttocks clenched as he drove into her.

"Agh, ah, agh, ah," Bordon grunted. His hips where moving back and forth with fury, thrusting in and out of her, the closed door was rattling against the doorjamb. "Ah, yes... You are so tight, Harmony!" He groaned with pleasure, heat surging through his veins. "So hot!" He held her waist with a tight grip as he bucked back and forth, driving her higher up the door .

"Oh, Bordon! God!" Harmony gasped and ground down against him. Bordon lowered his lips to her neck, suckling gently at first, then hard enough to leave large purple bruises on her neck, marking her. He wanted other men to know she was taken, she was his. Harmony moaned again with pleasure.

"I'm close, love, God, I am coming!" Bordon growled, he punched in and out of her, deep enough to feel her canopy deep within her. "Aghhhh!" He cried out as he came, his seed spurting deep inside her in pulses.

The lock on the door suddenly broke and the door slammed open so fast that Bordon and Harmony lurched into the room and fell to the floor in heap. Harmony fell to her rump, with Bordon laying on top of her, at Tavington's feet. The doxy who had been pleasuring Tavington gasped and jerked away to avoid being crushed by Bordon and Harmony.

Tavington lurched up from the bed and Bordon looked up at the naked Commander with a sheepish smile on his face. He had still somehow managed to stay deep inside Harmony.

She, Harmony began to laugh. She giggled beneath him and then started to laugh so hard, her muscles deep within her convulsed and Bordon's erection was forced from her body.

"You laughed me out!" Bordon complained.

"The l-look on th-their f-faces!" She managed through her mirth, "Oh, I c-can't b-breathe!" Harmony half sat, half turned onto her side as Bordon pushed himself up to his knees, her eyes where streaming tears and her laughter ripped from her.

"Oh dear..." a naked Banastre said from the bed, drawing Bordon's attention.

Richard tilted his head to one side as he looked at the other Officer quizzically, trying to figure out what Banastre had been doing. He was laying on top of his doxy, she was beneath him, but her head was at the other end of the bed. Banastre's face was between her legs. Richard's eyes widened with realization.

_They pleasured each other with their mouths, at the same time!_

"Harmony, can _we_ do that?" Bordon asked, as excited as a school boy.

Harmony turned to look. She had to wipe the tears from her eyes first, all she could see was a blurry Tarleton, swimming in her vision.

"Oh, yes, my darling. We can do that..!" She began to laugh again as Bordon stood up and quickly shoved his member back into his breeches. He did not bother to do up the buttons, he reached his hand down and Harmony allowed him to help her up.

"Now?" Bordon asked and Harmony nodded with a giggle.

She turned her gaze to William, who stood before her. He was so startled he had not thought to cover himself. Her eyes roamed over his naked body, athletic and strong. She quirked her eyebrows in surprise when she saw his large erection. Bordon was a big boy, but she believed Tavington was even larger.

"Richard, my love, I think I will let Tavington seduce me after all!" She gazed at the Officer's erection longingly and laughed again. "No wonder you like him, Linda, look how big he is!"

"Why thank you, Miss Jutland," Tavington drawled. He reached for his ruffled shirt to hide his naked member calmly, then waved his free arm toward the bed. "Would you care to join us?"

"Hell, yes. Sorry Captain," she quipped to Bordn. "I've changed my mind, I'm with the Colonels!" She laughed and took two steps toward Tavington. William's eyes opened wide with surprise and pleasure. He had been joking, but if she wished to join him and Linda, he would not refuse her!

"Oh no you don't!" Bordon growled, spoiling William's dreams of bedding two women at once. Richard grabbed his laughing mistress around the waist from behind and hoisted her off her feet. Twirling her in the air, he carried her bodily from the room.

"Oh, please, darling!" Harmony laughed with mock protest. "Just this once?"

"No, my dear, not ever," Bordon said, firmly closing the door behind them.

"Oh, the looks on their faces!" William heard Harmony's muffled voice say again through the door. He shook his head, he could still hear her gales of laughter as Bordon carried her down the hall, the sounds faded and then Tavington heard a door slam closed cutting off Harmony's laughter.

Tavington looked down at Tarleton, still laying across his doxies body, her legs were spread wide before him.

"Hmm, Linda, can we do that?" Tavington asked as he stepped back to the bed and pulled Linda into his lap.

::::::::::::::::::

The Officers returned to the common room of the tavern and drank until the night was late.

Harmony, who had finished her barmaid shift hours ago, had been sitting on Bordon's lap. Many men approached her but were quickly sent on their way with their tails between their legs. If Bordon's glare was not enough to dissuade them, Tavington's icy gaze and Tarleton's quit wit sent them packing. William and Banastre, upon learning that Harmony had become Richard's mistress, began to treat the young woman as they would their closest friend's sister. They still gazed at her with desire, but they understood she was now off limits.

Arthur Simms finally made an appearance, joining the Officers with a silly, contented smile on his face. The Officers had corrupted the newly initiated Dragoon, and they all laughed uproariously when Arthur boasted of how many women he had lain with that night. At least four.

The Officers and Harmony shared an enjoyable evening until well after midnight, when Tavington decided it was time to go home. They all stumbled out of the tavern and had a hell of a time trying to mount their horses, Banastre falling three times before he was finally seated.

William smirked - _he_ had only fallen once! Harmony was hoisted up into the saddle behind Bordon and she spent the entire ride back to her little rented room with her arms around his waist, gently stroking his member through his breeches.

Richard saw her to her door. She waved goodbye to the other officers, kissed Bordon soundly, then disappeared inside.

"Lucky bastard," Banastre muttered as Bordon returned. The Captain smirked.

The three Officers bid Simms farewell as he rode down off in a different direction, leaving Tavington, Bordon and Tarleton to make their way to the Tisdale's.

Now Bordon and Tavington carried a very drunk Tarleton up the stairs of the Tisdale home.

"Where is he going to sleep?" Bordon asked Tavington. "I should fetch a slave to make up a room for him."

"No, no need... We'll put him in my bed, I'll bunk in with you tonight." The two men dragged Banastre into William's room and dropped him onto the bed.

"But what of Vera? She will come to you and find Banastre!"

Tavington began to laugh. "Then Banastre will get a nice surprise, won't he?" He whispered, holding one finger to his mouth conspiratorially. Still chuckling, he said, "lets put out some of these lanterns so she can't see well enough to know the difference..."

"You are a fucking evil bastard, William, did you know that?" Bordon laughed.

Tavington nodded, and they two men extinguished lanterns until the room was so dim, all Vera would be able to make out was a lump on the bed. She would not know it was not William. The two men, giggling like boys over their naughty prank, made their way from the room.

:::::::::::::

"William?"

"Eh?" Banastre roused enough to murmur.

"Are you awake?" A woman's voice called.

"Uh." He muttered, not truly understanding the question through the foggy haze of sleep and whiskey.

"Lord, you have never been this drunk before. I wonder if you will be able to..." Banastre felt something warm and soft creep inside the top of his breeches.

"Ah..."

Now _that_ he understood. Banastre opened his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room, enjoying the feel of the warm and soft something stroking his half soft member. There was not much light at all. He could tell the room was large, the only light emanated from a few dimmed lanterns and a dying fire in the large fireplace. He was definitely not in the tavern any more. Nor was he in his quarters on Tradd St.

"Hmmm," Banastre murmured. The woman's soft hand stroked his member into wakefulness.

"Perhaps I was wrong, William..." The voice chuckled beside him. He became aware of another warm soft something, a woman's naked body, pressed against him.

_William? _Banastre thought... _Oh Lord, I am at the Tisdale's and this is Vera! _He tried to stifle a bark of laughter._ William you sly old dog! Well, I won't say no to a perfectly lovely creature... _

Vera lifted her head as Banastre put his arms around her. He groaned as his erection reached its capacity. He could not grow any harder, even if Beth Martin walked in the room.

"Ah, Vera..."

Vera did not seem to notice that the voice did not belong to Tavington. She pulled her hand out of his breeches and began to unclasped his belt and undo the buttons. He lifted his hips up high and Vera drew his breeches and drawers from his legs.

"Oh, William, you have kept me waiting all night! I do hope you weren't with some doxy..." She leaned forward to nibble and nip at Banastre's neck, then moved to straddle him. Their lips found each others in the dark, brushing softly as Banastre removed his Green coat. They stopped kissing as Banastre pulled his ruffled shirt over his head, then their lips crashed together again, both groaning.

"I am ready for you, my darling. As always..." Vera murmured against his lips. She took his hand and placed it between her thighs, he dipped his fingers in her folds and sighed appreciatively. She certainly _was_ ready for him.

"Lay back on the bed Vera," Banastre commanded.

She climbed off him and lay on her back. Banastre moved to straddle her chest, he edged backward until his erection was above her face.

"William, what _are_ you doing?"

Banastre smiled. "Pleasure me, darling, while I pleasure you."

His face hovered just above her womanly centre and his erection was above her lips. He thought it was the best position for the time being. She would not see him close up, would not realise he was not Tavington. Yet.

With that, Banastre set to work.

"Oh, God!" Vera moaned. "Oh - we've not done this before! Oh..."

She bucked her hips up greedily against his mouth. She writhed her hips around and groaned with pleasure as he worked her.

From beneath him she took hold of his erection with firm, sure hands and lifted her head upwards to circle her tongue around his helmet. It was pure bliss, the feel of her soft, warm tongue working his shaft, suckling as she moved her head up and down. She moved her lips along his length and gently cupped his sack, massaging and squeezing. Banastre was soon covered in a film of sweat from tension as thrilling pleasure built steadily.

The quiet of the room was broken with the sounds of their heavy breathing and their moans. Tarleton continued to rock his hips back and forth, encouraging his aching erection deeper into Vera's mouth. Vera bucked against his tongue, driving his fingers deeper inside her.

She drew back from him, his erection popped out of her mouth, but before he could protest Vera shouted.

"Oh, William, your fingers! Please, I need them deeper, faster! Oh!"

Banastre urged his fingers in deeper, ready to stroke them in and out of her faster.

"You first, dear," Banastre said in a fair imitation of William's voice, "take me deeper, I want to feel your mouth working me."

Vera grabbed his erection again, pushing her mouth upward along his length until he could feel the back of her throat. And then she began to suck and Banastre nearly cried out with pleasure - the woman was trying to swallow him whole! He groaned and shoved two fingers as deep as they would go, pumping her hard.

"Nn, nn, nn, nn," came Vera's muffled groans. She could do no more with him buried in her mouth, another advantage of this position. Banastre did not have to hear the woman moaning "William," over and over.

"Are you about to come?" Banastre asked. When he felt her nod, he drew himself from her mouth and climbed off her. He wanted to feel her clench around his member while she climaxed.

He shuffled over her and settled between her thighs. Vera gripped his hair and pulled his face down for a hard, deep kiss, while Banastre eased his erection into her body with an achingly slow movement.

_God, she is so tight! How does she get to be this tight! This is how Beth would feel... God, I just know it! _

He groaned and shoved himself in all the way, burying himself deeply. He thrust back and forth, his shoulder muscles bunching with the effort of driving in and out of Vera. Her hands gripped his buttocks, she glided one finger just below the virgin entrance of his backside, along the smooth skin above his sack.

_God, she's good! _Banastre thought as his pleasure was suddenly heightened.

He was lost in a fantasy of Beth, who had slowly disrobed and now kneeled before him, suckling his member. She drew back from him and threw herself onto her back on the bed and screamed for him to take her.

_Take my virginity, please! Now! Ah, Banastre, Banastre, _**_Banastre_**_!_

Tarleton's heart raced as he bucked back and forth into Vera, pushing her up the bed as his hips crashed against hers. He ignored Vera's professions of love, of how she never wanted him, William, to leave her.

_"Ah, Beth, you feel so good!" _Banastre_ moaned against Beth's ear._

_"Oh, Ban, please - oh, I never knew... how good... it could feel!" Beth screamed and scored her nails along his back, hard enough to raise red lines in his skin as she writhed beneath him. He wound his fingers through her golden hair and kissed her hard. He drilled into her, burying himself deep enough to touch her roof. He groaned out loud as she clenched around him, her insides pulsing with the force of her climax._

_"Ah, Beth!" Banastre cried out as his climax surged through him. He continued to plough into her and he groaned as his seed erupted from him in spurts. "Ah...!"_

He fell silent and lowered his head, his breath coming in sharp bursts as he calmed. His arms felt shaky from supporting his body during his strenuous exertions. He finally came back to himself as his breathing returned to normal.

Vera lay beneath him, as still as a statue. She had turned to ice. It was only then that he realized he had cried out Beth's name aloud, not just in his dream, as he climaxed.

_Oh shit._

"Beth?" Vera asked, even her voice was ice. "Beth _Martin_?"

Banastre made no answer. He lay on top of Vera, waiting to see what she would say and do next.

William had complained to Banastre about his mistress' ever growing jealousy, had confided he was ready to give her up. That had disturbed Banastre no end, he feared Beth was the reason William was about to give Vera up. Banastre had fallen quite in love with Beth, unlike William - who merely wished to win a wager and make a conquest.

"She is who you are thinking of?" Very said now. "That golden haired _chit_! That little bitch!" Vera hissed.

Hearing these spiteful words displeased Banastre greatly.

With a suddenly vicious movement, he grabbed Vera's wrists and shoved her arms down, pinning them to either side of her head. His grip on her wrists was iron. Vera gasped with pain and thrashed beneath to free herself - to no avail. Banastre was still impaled deep within her, his entire body pinning her to the bed.

Vera began to rage up at him.

"That silly, pathetic slip of a girl? A virgin! Unless she _fucked_ Colonel Burwell. She would not know what to do with you! I am a grown woman, William. I can please you like no other, certainly better than that little innocent! No, Sir, you will not utter another woman's name in my bed - you will not utter the name of another girl, either! I am _not_ Beth!"

"And what a great pity that is," Banastre murmured against her ear, then smiled. She stiffened with afront. He was hard again already and he moved his hips back and forward, thrusting inside her with long, slow strokes.

"Ah, Beth," he taunted quietly, "Beth..."

It was more enjoyable than he could imagine, saying Beth's name while buried deep inside a woman.

"Stop it, right now!" Vera spat. "William, I will scream if you say her name again!"

"Beth..." Banastre raised his hips and pushed forward slowly, her velvety walls enveloped him as he whispered Beth's name over and over. He chuckled, knowing she would not scream. She would not wish to risk discovery.

"But don't worry, Vera," Banastre picked up the pace, stroking faster now his climax was almost upon him. He drove in and out of her, hard and fast, but managed to keep his lips pressed close to her ear.

"I am not William..." He murmured. He groaned as he came.

He rolled off her, not even caring that he had been so very cruel. Not after the things the vicious little cat had said about Beth.

As soon as she was free, Vera jumped off the bed and began jerking on her shift. She lit several candles and, breathing hard, turned to face him - to discover who it was she had just bedded.

"Lieutenant Colonel Tarleton," she breathed.

He chuckled. Resting both arms beneath his head, he smiled up at her with glee.

"Hmm hmm. None other. It was enjoyable, Vera, Mistress of William. But now I wish to sleep. Off you go, I'm done with you."

Vera was frozen to the spot, trying to work this through in her mind. "You raped me."

"Hardly that," Banastre laughed out loud. "You were happy enough while in my arms. Its a simple matter of mistaken identity. Not rape."

Vera continued to stare at him, her wide eyes flashing with fury.

"If you like," he said, "I can go and fetch William for you. You can explain how you mistook me for him. He has quite the jealous streak - do you wish to see what your infidelity will drive him to?"

Vera quailed.

Banastre snorted, knowing fully well that William would do nothing.

_He cares not a whit for you. This was his little prank in the first place._

It had the desired effect, however. Vera placed her hand over her cheek as if remembering the sting of William's slap. Banastre's smile deepened, Tavington had told him all about it, of course.

"Away with you, Vera. Chalk it up to experience. You have had William and now you have had me. We've shared lovers before, it is of no moment. I am an exceptional lover, you enjoyed yourself under my care. Leave it at that, darling."

It was sage advice and Vera took it. She nodded nervously, then all but ran from the room.

Banastre chuckled again. He could not sleep now, his body felt alive - every limb felt the need to be _doing_ something. He rose from the bed and stoked the fire, placing another log on the flames before pacing the room. When he grew sick of this, he lay down again.

_I must try and get some sleep... A big day tomorrow..._

His thoughts turned to Beth.

_How have I become so infatuated? Lord... But she is beautiful. And sweet. And fiery..._

His parents often told him how they had fallen in love instantly and Banastre had been raised to believe in love at first sight. He had experienced it often enough with plenty of women in the past - he had been in love several times in his twenty-six years. But this felt different somehow, it felt... more intense...

He punched his pillow with anger, wishing he had never let Tavington lead him into the wager. He did _not_ want to lose Beth to William.


	11. Chapter 11 - Eavesdropping

**Chapter Eleven - Eavesdropping**

Mary shut her bed chamber door quietly behind her. As she walked up the corridor she heard voices coming from Colonel Tavington's room. She continued walking past the door, but when she heard Beth's name, she stopped dead, right there in the hallway. The Officer's bed chamber door was ajar. While Mary would never think of eavesdropping in the normal order of things, Beth was her closest friend and Mary felt compelled to listen to what the Officer had to say about her.

There were other voices coming from within the camber, Mary recognised them at once. Captain Bordon, who was billeted in Mary's home along with Tavington. And Lieutenant Colonel Tarleton.

"She is beautiful, Bordon, you will have to judge for yourself when you finally meet her." Tavington was saying.

Mary smiled with relief, the men were not speaking ill of her friend. That would have put her in a difficult position indeed. Mostly because she would have to tell Beth what the men were saying, and Mary had no desire to hurt her. She, Beth, had not been able to hide her growing regard for Tavington, and it relieved Mary that she would have some good news to report back to her friend. She decided to stay and listen some more, to discover just how much Tavington regarded Beth. Mary disliked the Officer herself. To each their own..

"No where near as beautiful as my Harmony, I would imagine," Bordon disagreed. Mary heard the other two Officers laugh.

"Please, Richard," Banastre's voice came to her. "Harmony is a lovely creature, to be sure. But she is a _barmaid," _he sniffed. "Bordon - do not scowl at me so, I do not mean to say anything against your Lady! I think I have quite fallen in love with her myself. What a delight she is, a breath of fresh air! She could barely get her breath when the two of you fell through the door, she was laughing so hard!"

Mary frowned, puzzled. Fell through the door? What sort of adventuress woman was this 'Harmony'?

"And to tell William here that she wanted to bed him!" Banastre was saying. "Lord, what a laugh she is! I look forward to having such a lively creature brightening up our days at camp."

Mary stiffened. 'Harmony' wanted to bed Tavington? She disliked the turn of the conversation and began to fear where it was going.

"Miss Beth Martin, however, is a Lady. A _noble_ Lady of _quality_ -" Banastre continued.

"A noble Lady of quality?" Bordon sneered. "Let me understand this - I wish to see if I have it right. Harmony is a simple Barmaid and therefore beneath your notice, yet Miss Martin is a noble Lady of quality."

"Precisely," Tavington drawled and Banastre chuckled.

"However," Bordon raised his voice to be heard over the laughter. "It has not stopped the two of you from placing a wager to see which of you can steal her virtue!"

Mary covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp. As she had feared, the conversation had taken a dark turn indeed - far darker than she could have imagined. Her eyes where wide with horror and she wanted to run from the things the men were saying, but she planted her feet firmly, determined to listen to the terrible end. Beth would need to know - all of it.

"And you are both so cocksure you will get under her skirts, which tells me she is either _not_ a Lady of quality, or the two of you are not _gentlemen_!"

"I guess we are no gentlemen, then, aye Banastre?" William laughed.

"No, Sir, we are not. For Beth _is_ a woman of quality, Bordon, a true Lady. So very fine..." Banastre sighed wistfully. "Which reminds me, William. I have not yet thanked you for your gift last night! What a wonderful talent your mistress is! I thought she was going to swallow my cock whole!"

Mary's eyes bulged. She was aghast. Never had she heard such a speech! She instinctively understood the Officer's meaning and it made her sick to her stomach. Tavington was quite right, she pinioned. These men were _no_ Gentlemen!

Added to that, Tavington - who Beth favored, had a mistress! The two Officers were both courting Beth during the day and from the sounds of it - bedding other women at night! Despicable!

"Ah, yes," Tavington laughed, "she is very good at that."

"I taught her something new, however. She quite enjoyed that position the two of you discovered me in with Mariah last night. I did the same with your mistress, William. She and I pleasured each other for quite a long time..." Banastre sighed. "I do not think I ever want to leave this bed again!"

The meaning of his words washed over Mary like an icy cold wave. This mistress Banastre spoke of - he had bedded her in Tavington's chamber - in Mary's own home! These men were bringing loose women back to her house! She decided Beth was not the only one who would learn of this, but her father also. Mr. Tisdale would not appreciate his house being used as a brothel!

"She is a delight," Tavington's voice came to her. "While I am inside her anyway. She has quite a vicious tongue, however and I am tired of her jealousy."

"Ah... Yes, about that. I discovered her jealous streak. I inadvertently yelled another woman's name in the throws of passion. She was quite put out with me. Well, with you, William, seeing that she thought I was you," Banastre laughed.

Mary frowned, puzzled - his words had her perplexed. She cursed herself for not being worldly enough to follow their entire conversation.

_How could she not tell the difference between Tarleton and Tavington?_

William barked a laugh. "Bordon and I purposefully turned down the lanterns, so that she would not immediately see she was not with me." His tone sounded gleeful.

At that moment, Mary began to truly detest Tavington. Never had she detested a person in her life! But here it was, hate, pure and true. She folded her arms tight across her breast.

_That's disgusting! They tricked her into bedding Tarleton. In this very room. Right across the hall from my own room! Oh, how can I tell Beth - she will be heartbroken - Tavington has a mistress! He is using Beth - nothing more! An amusement - to bed and ruin and continue on his way!_

"So, how much damage have you caused between my mistress and I, Ban? Will she come to me again tonight, I do not fancy sleeping alone."

_Come to me? Oh my Lord, does she reside in this house? A maid, perhaps? I'll see her turned out, I'll see her dismissed!_

"She will come to you. I told her the truth you see, _after_ I shouted the other woman's name. She lit the lanterns in the room and stared at me with absolute horror, to find I was not you. She should have known from the start, really - I am a far more exceptional lover than you!"

Mary heard a scoff, and assumed it came from Tavington.

"Let me guess the name you cried out, Ban," came Tavington's taunting drawl. "It would not have been our very own Little Miss Beth Martin, would it?"

Silence descended in the room and Mary strained her ears, trying to hear. She jumped, startled, when Tavington suddenly barked a laugh. "I thought so! Don't feel to badly Ban. For the last two days, each woman I've rogered ha been Miss Martin in my imagination. The sooner I get between her legs and get her out of my system, the better."

Somehow, this pronouncement was more shocking to Mary than anything she had heard so far. Feeling decidedly ill, she stumbled away from the door a few steps, ready to flee.

_No, Beth is going to need to hear this. _She took up her position again, hoping no servants came along and discover her.

"How much is the wager for, _gentleman_?" Bordon sneered the word 'gentlemen', loading it with scorn.

"£50." The other two Officers said together.

Bordon whistled under his breath. Mary could take no more. Hoisting her skirts above her ankles, she ran silently down the corridor, then called for the carriage as soon as she felt sure she was far enough from the Officers to not be heard.

:::::::::::::::

After a light breakfast at the Putman's, Beth decided to visit with with her Aunt Charlotte, who had recently returned from Rhode Island. She had been gone - visiting her elderly aunt, for almost two whole weeks, which had delayed their departure from Charles Town. It could not be helped, however. Charlotte's aunt had written that she was unwell, and as she had no children of her own to tend her, the responsibility had fallen to Charlotte.

When Beth arrived, she was surprised to see her Aunt's house was a hive of activity - Charlotte's staff had begun packing for the removal to the Santee.

"It's good to see you, Beth," Aunt Charlotte embraced her niece and the two women sat on the chaise.

"How was your visit with Aunt Prudence?" Beth asked. Charlotte had been gone for several days and had only arrived back the night before. "I hope she is better."

"She is much better. I'm disappointed, however. She is refusing to leave Newport. I was hoping she would agree to come and keep me company in the country. I think it would be safer for her, but she does not want to leave her friends in Rhode Island. She has quite a thriving social life for such an elderly lady."

"You will have me to keep you company," Beth pointed out.

"For a little while, perhaps. Your father, my dear, will want you home with him as soon as we reach the Santee," Charlotte's smile was fond as she spoke of Benjamin Martin.

"Well, you'll just have to come and live with us. It will be safer if we're altogether and you will not want for company at Fresh Water."

"Perhaps..." Again that little, wistful smile.

"It really would be for the best," Beth told her Aunt. "You all alone at Drakespar? No, it would not be a good idea at all..."

Just then, Matthew entered the parlor.

"Good morning Miss Martin," he said. He held a silver tray in his hand, bearing a letter for Beth. "This came last night, I was going to send it on to you at Mr. Putman's."

"Oh, thank you, Matthew," Beth said politely and picked up the envelope. "It's from Gabriel!" She exclaimed.

Charlotte sat beside Beth, who held the letter up in between them so they could both read it.

_Dearest Beth,_

_It is with great sadness that I write to you this evening. Our oldest friend, Peter Cuppin died today, on the field of battle. He was one of the many who fell today in an unexpected skirmish. Though we stood side by side, he was cut down while I left the field without injury. I am sorry my writing is so poor, dear sister, I can barely hold my hand steady enough to write you, such is my grief and shock. It could have been me - it could have so easily been me. Why did he have to die? How did it happen? I can not make any sense of it. We had been joking that very morning, trying to hold the other men's moral, and then..._

_I am sorry. I know I should have waited a few days to write to you, waited until the shock had faded, but I have to put these words to paper. He was standing right beside me! He had just turned to me, told me he wanted me to wager my watch when we played cards next, and I had laughed - I would never wager my father's watch! And then the enemy was raging toward us. I fired my musket, and was reloading when an enemy soldier ran his sword through Peter's chest. He fell, and I grabbed him, but it was too late. He died in my arms._

Beth's breath caught, she pressed her hand to her throat. She was only distantly aware of Charlotte's comforting arm around her shoulders.

_"I am in such conflict, Beth. Not only because of my grief for Peter, but because of other things that are taking place here in camp. Major Bryant's son, Private Bryant, was recently taken captive along with several other Officers. So far negotiations to have them released have come to nothing._

_Bryant is beside himself with fear for his son and he has been speaking with Francis Marion, the two coming up with another idea - a way to force Cornwallis to release our Officers. Marion says we have to fight fire with fire, use the British tactics against them. He suggested that we take hostages, to force the British to an exchange. _

_Burwell has agreed, much to my chagrin. _

_At Marion's suggestion, Burwell has decided to target a family who have allied themselves most strongly to the British, a family that both Clinton and Cornwallis value the most. _

_I will not compromise you by revealing which family they have targeted, but I must say that I find the plan to be utterly without honor, for the people they plan to capture are civilians, not of the military._

_I voiced my opinion to Burwell but Bryant overheard me and shouted me down. He argued that, as this family has a son who has recently joined the Green Dragoons and are so clearly in Clinton's pocket, they have given their allegiance to the British and do not deserve our mercy. I know it is grief and fear speaking for him, but it does not change the fact that it is wrong to attack civilians._

_Beth, I want to fight this war with honor! And there is no honor in this! I hardly know what to do. Colonel Burwell assures me that no harm will come to the hostages but it does not help at all._

_Never have I felt so lost. Without Peter to help me - we always worked together, raising each other's spirits, confiding in one another. There is no one for me to turn to now, no one to speak to of this. I am sorry to burden you, sweet sister. _

_Know that I am well, unwounded, and love you dearly. _

_Your loving brother,_

_Gabriel Martin, Corporal of the Continental Army._

:::

Beth put the page down and turned her wide eyes to her Aunt.

"Poor Gabriel," she murmured. Tears of grief traced her cheeks. "Poor Peter..."

"The Cuppins will be distraught," Charlotte sighed heavily. "So many of our friends have died, its just tragic."

She rubbing Beth's arm comfortingly.

"Colin... I will have to tell him," Beth murmured. "We used to follow Gabriel and Peter through the woods. They would try and shake us off but we'd catch up to them every time. Sweet Lord - Peter was engaged, too! Poor Miss Emery."

"I know."

The two women fell silent, Beth struggling to come to terms with the horrible news. Peter Cuppin was not the first lad she had grown up with to have been killed in battle.

"And he won't be the last," she whispered aloud, meeting Charlotte's gaze. The other woman nodded, seeming to understand Beth's line of thought.

Beth sighed heavily, then folded the letter and placed it in the pockets in her skirt.

"Who do you think this family is, that Harry is going to take captives from?" Beth asked miserably. "How can he even consider it?" She continued when Charlotte had no answer. "He is worried that I might be taken hostage, but here he is, planning the same."

"I have no answer for you, Beth," Charlotte sighed.

"I'll wager its the Simms," Beth mused. Charlotte quirked an eyebrow.

"Perhaps you should not try and deduce who the family is, Beth. There is nothing you can do to stop it."

"It's the Simms," Beth continued as if Charlotte had not spoken. "Arthur has recently joined the Green Dragoons. And the Simms are certainly in 'Clinton's pocket'."

"Beth - its really for the best if you -"

"Sweet Lord, how can we allow this to happen? We are going to the Simms ball on Friday!"

"Now Beth," Charlotte said firmly. "You do not know for certain who the family is. Besides - stop and think carefully now - there is nothing you can do about it," she held her nieces eyes with a stern glare. "Unless you plan on telling the British?"

Beth paled. Her eyes were wide as she shook her head. To do that would be treason, she would be a traitor against the Cause.

"Now, I suggest you put it out of your mind, dear heart," Charlotte continued once she was certain her point had been made. "Besides, what was Gabriel thinking? Telling you of this plot?"

"Well," Beth reasoned, "Perhaps he was not thinking, Aunt. In his grief for Peter, he has perhaps revealed too much."

"Hmm," Charlotte pursed her lips with distaste but said nothing more.

"Still," Beth fretted. "I know Gabriel was speaking of the Simms family. To be taken hostage - the idea terrified me when I thought it could happen! Poor Terese!"

"Dearest, you do not know its them! Besides, can you imagine Burwell doing anything to harm her? Or her siblings?"

"No..." Beth said slowly.

"Then trust him." Charlotte gave a great sigh. "Whoever the family is, trust in Burwell not to harm them."

She patted Beth's arm then withdrew her hand.

"Are you alright? I mean, about Peter..."

"No," Beth said miserably. "When will it end, all the killing? All the pain? Our lives have been ripped apart..."

"I know. I pray every day, giving thanks for Gabriel's safety. But I know he could die at any time and it terrifies me."

Matthew returning to the parlor to announce Miss Tisdale's arrival served to distract the women from their combined misery.

Charlotte rose from the chair to greet Mary with a broad smile. After chatting with her for a few moments, Charlotte excused herself. "You caught me on the way out, Miss Tisdale, I am about to visit my brother, Mr. Putman. If you will excuse me, I will leave you and Beth to your visit."

"Of course," Mary said.

Charlotte swept from the room and Mary sat beside Beth, suddenly reluctant despite her initial haste. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, knowing her news would cause her friend agony.

"Mary? What is it?" Beth asked gently, seeing her friends distress.

"Beth, I have something to tell you. I over heard a conversation this morning, and I... It is going to be difficult for you to hear."

"Very well, take your time Mary," Beth sat back and folded her hands in her lap, waiting patiently for Mary to find the words.

"I happened to be passing by Colonel Tavington's room earlier this morning, his door was slightly ajar and he was speaking with Colonel Tarleton and Captain Bordon. It is very bad manners to eavesdrop but when I heard your name mentioned, I decided to do just that. "

Beth's stomach lurched. Whatever it was the Officers had been discussing about her could not be good, or Mary would not be so clearly distressed. Her first fear was that Tavington already had a sweetheart. But, in light of the letter she had received from Gabriel, she began fearing something just as bad, that Tavington was coming for her. She was going to be put in a dark cell and Burwell would not be able to to have her released, the same as they could not have Private Bryant and the other Officers released.

"Its not good Beth," Mary warned her. "You are not going to like it."

"I dare say..." Beth said gravely.

Mary nodded. "Beth, it pains me to tell you this, but Colonel Tavington and Colonel Tarleton have made a wager. It seems that they are both vying to... Ah..." Mary faltered. Beth wound her fingers through hers, offering support. She continued in a whisper. "Beth, to be the victor, one or the other must bed you."

Beth's face drained of color. "Bed me?" She whispered.

"I am so sorry, but I heard them, its what they said. One has to bed you and the other must pay... Oh, Beth, the other must pay fifty pounds to the victor!"

Beth felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach. She struggled to breath, her voice failed her. Such pain gripped her stomach, the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.

"Well," she breathed finally. Her eyes were open wide but unseeing. Her grip on Mary's hand became lax, as the muscles in her body seemed to turn to water. She closed her eyes and reeled, swooning.

"Oh, Beth," Mary said. Tears welled in her eyes, fell down her cheeks. "I am so sorry. I know you were growing to care for him - for Tavington. I stopped to listen because I heard him saying you were beautiful and I thought I would have some good news to impart to you. But then they kept talking and it all turned so horrible, so quickly!"

"They wagered my virtue," Beth whispered. "He does not care for me! I thought... Oh, sweet Lord above!"

"Oh Beth," Mary's voice rose, distressed that she had to pass on these horrible tidings. She pulled her weeping friend into her arms, crying right along with her. "How dare they treat my friend so? How dare they break your heart?" She whispered. Mary stroked Beth's hair. "Those men are _wretched_! They are not Gentlemen, not at all! What a terrible way to behave, to make a bet and seduce a young woman. They are horrid, and not worthy of your good opinion. That Tavington - he is not worthy of your love!"

Beth clutched to Mary, holding on for dear life as she sobbed with heart break. Mary whispered quiet words of reassurance, rocking her gently.

"They matter not, my darling one," she said softly as Beth wept. "You will leave here in two weeks. And one day you will marry Colonel Burwell. And these men will learn of it and they will despair at your loss, despair that they treated you so horridly!"

"Everything is falling apart!" Beth cried out. Her words came in short gasps between her tears. "And G-Gabriel wrote, our f-friend, P-Peter Cuppin d-died in the fighting. I f-feel so wretched!" She wailed as the combined grief threatened to tear her apart.

"Oh, Beth, I'm so sorry for your friend," Mary whispered.

She had been on the verge of telling Beth of Tavington and Tarleton's other women, but now thought better of it. Beth was already in the depths of despair, Mary did not think her friend could handle any more terrible news. She would not burden her friend any further, she decided, and so kept it to herself.

"Shh," Mary murmured, still rocking gently. Beth's storm of weeping was far from over.

:::::::::::::::

A very long while later, when Mary felt certain Beth had calmed enough to be left alone, she excused herself to return home.

"I did not even tell Mamma and Papa I was leaving, or where I was going. I am probably in trouble as it is," she told Beth.

"I'm sorry -"

"No - no! Think nothing of it! I was the one who left all in a panic - I did not want to wait a single moment, you see. Beth, that Tarleton is heading to New York soon, you will not need to concern yourself with him. And as for the other one," she could barely bring herself to call Tavington by name, such was her fury. "You tell your Uncle you do not wish to see him, he will be kept away from you."

"I will," Beth said woodenly.

"Oh, please say you will still come tonight, Beth?" Mary asked desperately. Beth and Cilla, Rebecca, Sarah and Alice Ferguson were all to sleep at Mary's house after the dance. They had such a fabulous evening planned! But Tavington was billeted at Mary's home, Beth would not want to be anywhere that Tavington was.

"I don't think... I..." Beth began uncertainly.

"He won't be at the dance," Mary asserted. "I heard him say that he prefers taverns and gaming than dances. And because he enjoys taverns, he probably won't even come home until well after we've all retired for the evening. He spends most nights out with this Dragoons, drinking and..." she was about to say 'carousing' but thought better of it. "And playing cards."

"What of the morning? I don't want to see him at all, but he will be there at breakfast -"

"oh, no. I never see him in the mornings. He always leaves for the Assembly Hall at first light. You won't see him, I promise. Just promise you will think about it?" She begged, seeing Beth's uncertainty. "We can avoid him easily and I believe it will do you good, to be surrounded by your friends."

"I'll think about it," Beth promised, though she felt certain she would probably simply stay home at Mark's rather than risk encountering Tavington.

Mary embraced Beth again and then left, leaving the distraught girl on her own.

_Fifty pounds... How could they? He picked me that rose, took a keepsake from me. He kissed me, so beautifully. All the caresses and hand holding, the smiling and loving words - all to win some horrible bet! How can I have fallen in love with him? How could I allow myself to be taken in so easily?_

Beth finally rose from the chaise to stare out of the large windows facing the street.

_I may not be in love with Harry, but I do care for him. He is trustworthy and dependable, he would keep me safe, cherish me! He would never treat me like this! These men... These bloody REDCOAT Colonel's! How dare they try to use me so?_

Fury welled up inside her and Beth embraced it, it was so much better than the despair of heart break. She drew her anger around herself like a cloak, an unbreakable shield.

He was not worthy of her love. No, not if he thought he could treat her like this.

And not when a much better man was out there waiting for her, one who loved her dearly.


	12. Chapter 12 - Banastre's Remorse

**Chapter Twelve - Banastre's Remorse**

"Matthew," Beth called, rising from the chaise. "Did Aunt Charlotte take the carriage?"

"Yes, Miss Martin," Matthew advised. Beth sighed heavily.

"I'll wait then, I'm certain she won't be much longer," she replied. Matthew nodded and promised he would bring a cup of tea for her. Beth wanted nothing more to go home, to crawl into her bed, pull up her covers and stay there for the rest of her time in Charles Town. But she did not feel up to the long walk, not if she was to begin weeping half way there. She had already suffered bouts of weeping and bouts of rage, her emotions swinging wildly in the hour since Mary had left her.

Just as she made up her mind to lay down on the bed in her old room at Charlotte's manor, Matthew returned to announce that Beth had a visitor.

"Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton, Miss Martin. He says he is to ride out of Charles Town today and wishes to fare you well before he goes. Will you see him?"

"No!" Beth said urgently, feeling that wild swing in her emotions again. "I do not wish to see him!"

Matthew gave her a puzzled glance and turned to leave.

"Wait!" She called him back. "He's leaving, is he? No, you are to send him in, I've changed my mind."

"Are you certain?" Matthew frowned. "I can send him away."

"No," Beth said, strengthening her resolve. "I have some things I must say to him, now before he leaves. Or I'll regret it to my dying days."

"Ah... Very well," the butler said uncertainly. "I will remain near to hand in case you need me."

Clearly he was concerned and Beth didn't blame him. She was not usually so indecisive and it was clear she was distressed - he had seen her tears earlier. Beth had not been able to hide her grief.

A few moments later, Banastre was shown into the parlor.

Beth took one look at him and she stiffened with outrage. Unable to look at him, such was her disgust, she turned her back on him and headed over to gaze out of the large bank of windows, taking the time she needed to gather herself.

Banastre's smile faltered and he gazed at her back with some confusion.

"Miss Martin," he said warmly, though he was a little flustered at her cold greeting. Crossing the room to stand behind her, he swallowed hard and cleared his throat before trying again.

"Miss Martin, are you well?"

_No I am not bloody well! You wagered on my virginity! You thought I would bed you - what sort of loose woman do you take me for? _Beth continued to rage, but in silence for the time being. She needed to gather her nerve, despite her fury.

"Ah," Banastre faltered, clearly confused by her behaviour. "I am sorry for dropping in on you like this, I discovered you were here and I wanted to see you before leaving. You see, Sir Clinton is not allowing me to tarry a moment longer, the Raiders and I ride out for New Jersey, within the hour. I've spent the morning saying good bye to my friends and I could not leave without saying farewell to you."

Banastre gazed down at her, waiting for something from her, anything at all.

"Beth?" He said softly, he had never addressed her so familiarly before. "_Please_, my darling? Tell me what is wrong." He reached his hand up to her neck and caressed his fingers along her soft skin gently.

"You are leaving?" Beth asked, finally turning to face him. Her brown eyes were cold, they were _ice._

"Yes, my darling," Banastre said quietly.

"Your darling?" Beth scoffed. "You would not treat me so ill, if I were your _darling_."

"Beth, please, tell me what is wrong, tell me how to fix it, I'm _dying_ my love," Banastre said earnestly. He was about to ride out. He did not know when, or even _if_, he would see her again and he was, quite simply, dying. She was being so cold!

Beth pulled her eyes away from Banastre and shook her head. And understanding hit him like a bucket of cold water had been tipped over his head. His heart sunk to his feet.

_She knows_... _I don't know how, but she does. That damned wager! _Pain twisted his face and he reached out to took her gently by the arms drawing her close to him.

"Oh, Beth, I am so sorry. I should never have agreed to the wager, I do not know why I did."

Tears sprang to her eyes, her face crumpled with pain. His heart lurched to be the cause of her grief.

"It was _his_ idea then?" She said despairingly. "Lord... You would have taken my virginity, Banastre! Or _he_ would have! And then what? Am I so much rubbish to you both, to be treated so?"

"No! Oh, my love, no!" Banastre said frantically, passionately. "I'm a fool, my darling. Oh, Beth, say you'll forgive me, please!"

"I only found out an hour ago! I've barely had time to... to... _absorb_ this let alone forgive you! I am so _bloody_ angry! How could you? My virginity, for £50? Would you have bedded me and then passed me on to _him_ when you were done?"

"Lord no! William is one of my closest friends. But the thought of him having you..." His queue whipped around his shoulders as Banastre shook his head violently. "I couldn't stand it!"

"Then what?" Beth asked ruthlessly. "You would have _discarded_ me afterward?"

"I would _not_ have discarded you afterward! I have more compassion than that, and a genuine affection for you!"

"But you would not have married me, would you? Admit it! You would have used me, ruined me. I was to be your _mistress," _Beth spat the word._ "_You 'gentlemen' would do as you pleased without a care that you would have _destroyed _my virtue_! For fifty pounds!_"

"Beth, I am in love with you!" Banastre declared earnestly.

"Banastre," Beth sighed, her anger drained from her and she felt suddenly tired. She put her hand to her forehead, there was a headache growing just behind her eyes. "Please stop, just stop. You do not even know me, we only just met! Professions of love will not help you win the wager."

"I am not trying to win the God damned wager!" Tarleton snapped. She stared up at him, eyes wide and wary.

Breathing raggedly, Banastre closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to hers. He still held her by the arms gently, keeping her body close to his.

"I'm sorry, Beth," he said quietly. "This is just so hopeless, so frustrating. I never intended to hurt you, darling. I am sincerely in love with you. Have you not heard of love at first sight?"

Feeling confused, Beth did not pull away.

_Yes, I've fallen in love with Colonel Tavington, I was captivated by him from the start. Burwell told me he has loved me since the first time he met me. I was only sixteen._

"Yes, I have. But how am I to believe your sincerity, in the face of this wager?"

Banastre shook his head and sighed. "The _fucking_ wager!" He groaned. "I should never have made it!"

"No, you should not have." Beth did not bat an eyelid over his use of profanity. It was the least of her concerns just then.

He fixed his eyes on hers, willing her to believe him. "Beth, words can not express..." He stopped to draw a deep, ragged breath. "I am sorry. I love you and I hope one day you will forgive me."

Beth frowned, her confusion deepening. Banastre was wearing his heart on his sleeve, she had no doubt of his sincerity, not now. Encouraged by her silence, Banastre wrapped his arms around her waist. He drew her body to his and lowered his head to her shoulder. He held still for sometime, breathing deeply and relishing the feel of her. He was well aware he may never hold her again, this could be their first, and last, embrace.

Beth knew it too, knew he could die during his mission routing Patriots. Deciding to make peace with him, Beth put her hands on his hips to return his embrace. She felt Banastre sigh with relief. Neither said a word as the minutes ticked by. He did not try to kiss her, judging now was not the right time. He was just grateful she would let him hold her before he left.

"I have to go," he said finally. "Beth, I am so sorry I hurt you." He brushed a long, lingering kiss on her cheek before stepping back from her. He held her gaze for a few moments before turning to walk from the room.

"Stay safe, Sir," Beth called quietly before he reached the door, and Banastre turned back to her. "I am angry with you now, furious even. But I do not wish you harm."

His resolve not to kiss her crumbled to dust. In three quick strides he stood before her again and pulled her against him, with a groan of mingled despair and pleasure he brushed his lips against hers.

Beth's eyes opened wide with surprise, but she did not pull away from him. It was not the searing kiss she had from Tavington or the knee weakening kiss she had from Burwell. It felt... Nice... Soft, sweet, warm...

Banastre moved his lips against hers slowly, softly. He deepened the kiss slightly. He wanted nothing more than to touch his tongue to hers, however he resisted the urge and he kept the kiss chaste. Finally he drew back and stared at her intently, trying to etch her face in his memory.

"Do I still have your permission to write to you?"

"Banastre... I do not know... Everything is so complicated now..." Beth looked away then sighed. If he died out there on the field, she did not want their last words to one another to have been a refusal. "Yes, you may still write to me.

"Thank you," Tarleton caressed her face with his fingers. "I do love you, darling Beth."

Beth nodded.

"I believe you," she replied.

Tarleton brushed one last kiss on her lips, then turned and strode from the room.

**::::::::::::**

Mary stepped down from the carriage and made way for Beth and Cilla to follow. She held her skirts above her ankles and carefully wound her way a pile of horse droppings. Beth and Cilla followed, they joined the long line of people waiting to enter the hall - all speaking excitedly of the night ahead.

They eventually made their way inside, the heat from the hall hitting them like a wave. It was a hot Summer night, but it was still much cooler outside.

"See? Lots and lots of Redcoats, but not a single Colonel. We will have fun, Beth!" Mary's silk skirts swished as she made her way through the throng of people, young women, young Colonial men, and Redcoats, all talking and laughing, some where already dancing. She had been so relieved and excited when Beth announced she would attend the ball, and she would still attend the stay over with the other girls at Mary's house. She decided she must thank Cilla later, knowing it was Cilla's words to Beth that helped her to make her decision.

_"Don't you dare let those horrid men ruin our plans! Don't you dare wallow and cower in your bed! A dance and fun with you friends is just the thing you need!"_

"I know, I've been looking forward to tonight for over a week. I am still a little concerned about later on tonight, though," Beth stopped alongside Mary and Cilla caught up. "Perhaps we should not sleep at your house tonight, Mary."

"No!" Cilla protested. "And disapoint the others? Besides, if what Mary says is true, then Tavington will be at some tavern playing cards and dicing, he will not be home until we are all fast asleep in our beds. He probably won't even know we are there."

"And in the morning?" Beth was not mollified.

"He leaves so early to go to the Assembly Hall," Mary explained all over again. "He, Captain Bordon and the other Green Dragoons. We will have breakfast in peace - honestly, Beth. You are worried for nothing! Do not let it spoil your evening. You look so beautiful, you both do! And you already have the attention of some young gentlemen, watching from the corner there," Mary giggled as she looked past Cilla's and Beth's shoulders. She pulled out her fan and waved it over her face. "Oh, there is Colin... He is coming over, my heart is pounding!"

"Ladies," Colin bowed when he reached them. He took each by the hand to plant a light kiss above their fingers. He kissed Mary's hand last, but he did not let go.

"See? We will have fun, and Colin will protect Beth. Won't you, Colin?" Cilla asked.

"Protect you from whom?" Colin posed the question to Beth.

"Tavington," Cilla replied with distaste.

"I don't think he will be here," Colin was suddenly wary, he looked around them for sign of the Officer. "Here is your Private Watson, Beth, he is coming over."

"Cilla!" A woman's voice called. "There you all are! What took you so long to get here?" Rebecca embraced each of her friends.

"Probably wanting to make a grand entrance!" Sarah Wilkins quipped at Rebecca's side.

"Evening ladies," Private Watson joined them, he greeted each young woman. A few other young men joined them, Rebecca's older brothers, twins Michael and Marcus Middleton. It was the usual group, at each gathering it was always the same companions that came together, they enjoyed each others company. Private Watson was the only Englishman, the only Redcoat, but he fit in with the others as though he had known them for years.

He stood beside Beth and the small group began chatting companionably.

:::::::::::::::::


	13. Chapter 13 - The Public Dance

**Chapter Thirteen - The Public Dance**

William strode along the street to the large hall where the public ball was to take place. He waited patiently with the throng of people waiting to enter. The noise coming from the hall washed over him, it was to be a lively affair, it seemed. He had only learned of the dance a short while earlier - from Arthur Simms who had abandoned a perfectly good card game for the ball. After careful enquiry, William discovered that Beth often attended these affairs and so William decided to abandon the card game, in order to continue his seduction of the girl.

In a few short days, William felt certain, Beth's virtue and Banastre's fifty pounds would both be his. The girl was his for the taking, he was certain of it. Another notch in his belt, or so they say in the seedier sides of town. Another victory over Banastre.

He listened with amusement to the talk around him, a group of young men hoping to secure the affections of this lady or that. Boasting of how far one or the other would get beneath some girls skirts before she clamped shut on him. He smiled and scoffed - the boys were no different to how he was in younger days.

And not so younger days, he admitted ruefully, considering his recent attempt to seduce a young woman of her virtue. He had no plans beyond filling her for the first time, did not stop to consider the repercussions - that she would ruined and possibly even pregnant. Those were not his concerns - it was the way of life. It sounded to him as though her father loved her - if she fell pregnant - she would be found a husband quickly enough.

The crowd moved forward and Tavington strode into the hall. He began to look for familiar faces - Beth first and foremost. Not finding her instantly, he moved deeper into the large room, winding his way through people - Redcoats and Colonials alike, nodded in greeting as he continued his search.

"Tavington! Over here!"

William turned for the source of the familiar voice, his eyes falling on his Captain, Richard Bordon. He strode toward him purposefully.

"Ah, there you are, Bordon. Miss Jutland, also I see," he nodded at Harmony, who stood at Bordon's side with her arm linked through his. Tavington bowed and eyed the beauty appreciatively. "What a surprise to see you tonight!"

"Yes, I know. A shameful woman like myself should not be here amongst all these decent young Ladies..." Harmony smiled. "My Captain here insisted, he all but dragged me here..."

"You will liven the place up my dear," William assured her with a sultry smile. "That is a lovely gown you're wearing."

It surprised him - he was used to seeing her in cotton and wool dresses but here she was, wearing a silk dress as fine as any other in the ballroom that night. Perhaps a little worn - but only noticeable if one looked too closely.

"It is a _chaste_ dress, Sir." Harmony laughed. "I prefer my dresses to be a little more... airy. But, again, Bordon here insisted..." She gave a fatalistic sigh. "Not that I am complaining, it is a silk dress, after all!"

"I do not wish to have men admiring your legs, my darling," Bordon shot a teasing glance at William. "It is better to have you covered up, in case Tavington here gets ideas."

"No, Captain, do not fear," Tavington took Harmony's free hand and placed a chaste kiss on its top. "As beautiful as our Miss Jutland is, as desirable as she is, by the rules of friendship I have no choice but to cede her to you. Besides, as you are well aware, I have my own young lovely to chase, if only I could find her."

"Ah, this 'Miss Martin' who I have yet to meet?" Bordon asked.

"Who is Miss Martin?" Harmony looked between the two men.

"Banastre and William's new 'truelove'," Bordon scoffed. "According to them, she is the most beautiful woman in the colonies -"

"Oh, I thought I was?" Harmony arched an eyebrow at William. She pouted and batted her eyelids.

"You are, my dear," William smiled.

"_And_ she is supposedly a woman of quality, at that," Bordon finished.

"Ah, a virgin. No - a _refined_ virgin and a woman of wealth..."

"I don't know about wealth," William said primly. "Her Uncle is clearly wealthy, but I believe her own father's plantation is modest indeed." He had made this assumption when he first met her. Her father wished her to marry Burwell for the business connections it would afford him. Based on what Beth had told him of her childhood - running through the woods and shooting rabbits with sling shots, William got the distinct feeling that Beth's father was not as aristocratic as his in-laws. No, William decided, Mr. Martin was middling wealth at best. He continued, "But yes, an innocent and a beautiful one at that. And with Banastre gone, I have will have her attentions all to myself."

"No competition to speak of, you think?" Bordon smirked. "You should have no trouble winning the wager."

Tavington snorted. "I was having no trouble, with Ban here, Bordon. The girl all but melts in my hands."

"So certain of yourself..." Harmony murmured. She eyed William up and down deliberately. He was certainly handsome enough and Linda - one of the doxies who sometimes plied her trade at the tavern - had certainly fallen in love with him. Harmony would never have taken Officer to her bed, even if she had not met Richard. William showed plenty of warmth and character when he was trying to charm a woman to his bed. But underneath it all, Harmony sensed a tension in him. A danger - he far was too volatile to tempt her. "What wager?" She asked.

"£50 for the one to claim her virtue," Bordon declared.

"Oh, that is horrible!" Harmony said, losing her good humor. She rounded on Tavington with her hands on her hips. "What a way to entertain yourself! If you need completion, Sir, go and seek Linda again. She will give you everything you need!"

Tavington's eyebrows rose with surprise and irritation. He eyed her coolly, wondering if she realised just how far she had overstepped herself. He would not tolerate chastisement, not from Bordon's mistress! He liked the earthy Harmony but if she thought she could dress him down, in public at that, she was very much mistaken. He gave Bordon an icy and very significant glance. _'Deal with this, now'_, his expression seemed to say. Richard got the message, loud and clear.

"Harmony," Bordon placed his hand on her arm and spoke sternly. "Enough."

Harmony opened her mouth to argue, but she snapped it closed again. Both men gazed at her, their faces where stone and Harmony felt a chill at the ice in their eyes. She shivered, understanding that her protests were not appreciated.

"Forgive me, Colonel Tavington, I did not mean to offend. I was taken by surprise, is all." Harmony's voice was sullen but meek. _Lord, is this what it is going to be like in camp? I won't be able to speak my mind?_

"Think no more of it, Miss Jutland," Tavington's words excused her slip, though his eyes had not warmed even slightly.

Harmony swallowed, reading his expression clearly. _'Do not let it happen again'_. Thankfully Tavington broke his intent gaze to continue his search and Harmony could breathe again. She turned to Bordon who squeezed her hand with reassurance, though she sensed he was still angry also. She had embarrassed him _and_ irritated his superior.

"Ah, there she is," Tavington's anger eased as soon as his eyes fell on Beth and his lips curved in a warm smile. She was standing amidst her friends, the same crowd as he had seen her with previous, with a few additions. The men were talking and laughing, the women fanning their faces to cool themselves. "Would you like to meet her, this woman Banastre and I are vying for?"

"Very much so," Bordon replied. Guiding Harmony by the hand, he fell in behind Tavington. They wound their way through the crowd. The hall was well lit and the musicians played with enthusiasm. The young male revelers were made up of Redcoats and young Colonial men and there were plenty of beautiful young women for them to choose from. The room was awash with laughter, talking, noise and excitement. And dancing as well, in the centre of the large hall.

"Which one is she?" Bordon asked as they drew closer to the group of youths. The women in the group were already surrounded by young men.

"The blonde one, with brown ribbons in her hair." Tavington replied quietly. His eyes were on Beth as he approached though she was side on to him and already engaged in conversation with a Redcoat Officer.

"It looks like Banastre is not your only competition, then, William. That one seems awfully chatty with young Private Watson."

"He is of no moment," Tavington scoffed. Just a pup - not competition at all. "You know him?"

"Of course I know him, I know every body. It is my job, remember?" Bordon laughed.

Tavington nodded as he approached Beth and her companions.

Not for the first time, as William gazed at Beth he marveled at her beauty. Her silk bodice skirts accentuated her fine figure. Her golden hair was pinned back from her face, the locks curled and twisted tonight, rather than plaited. Her dark brown eyes where large and bright and her cheeks were flushed - no doubt from the heat of the room.

He had taken to carrying her keepsake in his pocket - the dark brown ribbon, a token of her affection. He fingered the ribbon now, as he drew closer the group.

Beth was so intimately close with Private Watson that she had not even glanced around to greet the newcomers who had joined the group. William frowned and felt a surge of jealousy, but he pushed it aside.

Her previous reactions to him were all the assurance he needed, as soon as she realised he was present, she would cease paying the young pup attention in favor of William. Besides, she was a beautiful young woman - obviously there where other men willing to pay court to her. It would make his victory all the more sweet - that he had pipped the others to the post.

Young Private Watson saw him almost instantly. He straightened and came to attention immediately - for Tavington and and Bordon both.

"As you were," William said curtly. Watson relaxed but Tavington had already returned his gaze to Beth. Now, she will abandon the pup and William would be able to lead her away and continue his seductions.

Beth, hearing Tavington's voice, turned her head slowly and met his eyes with dismay. She swallowed and her face drained of color. Her knuckles gripping her fan were white and it was all she could do to keep from swooning. Cilla moved behind her quickly and placed her hand on Beth's back, offering silent support.

_Please, ground, just swallow me whole,_ Beth prayed. Her heart pounded and her stomach writhed. _He's not supposed to be here! _She thought with despair. _Oh sweet Lord - why did I come here? I shouldn't have listened! Oh sweet Lord!_

"Good evening, ladies," Tavington greeted the young women, oblivious to Beth's turmoil. He bowed slightly to each one in turn, before singling Beth out.

"Miss Martin, what a pleasure it is to see you," he said warmly. "I had hoped you would be here."

She released a breath she had not realised she was holding. It came out in a rush, her chest heaving. Such a reaction, such turmoil - it was quite shocking that William noticed none of it.

"Sir," she managed quietly. She dropped her gaze to the floor.

William frowned, finally noticing Beth's distressed state.

"Good evening, Colonel Tavington," Mary stepped in cleanly, drawing Tavington's attention while Beth struggled to gather herself. "How are you this evening?"

"I am well, thank you," he replied, shooting Beth another frown. She was definitely distressed, she had turned to her cousin Cilla, now standing at her side with her arm around Beth's back as though to help her stand.

"I do not believe you know all of my companions," Mary waved her arm toward the other youths. Her voice was tense and nervous, he noticed. He spoke quietly with the new acquaintances, exchanging pleasantries, while Beth remained silent and kept her eyes averted. Growing frustrated, he decided to be more direct.

"Miss Martin," Tavington took her hand and placed a light kiss above her fingers. Beth stared at him with consternation. "You look ravishing this evening."

"Thank you, Sir." Beth raised her chin, her face becoming a frozen mask. She pulled her fingers back quickly, not allowing him to hold them for longer than half a moment. Almost, but not _quite_ snatching them from his grip. "I trust you are well this evening?" Her polite tone very carefully composed.

"Quite," William's pale eyes studied her face. Which was face was utterly white and she still seemed on the verge of a swoon. There was no smile. If anything, she appeared ready to be sick.

"We were under the impression you would not be here tonight, Sir," the outspoken Cilla announced. "It was our understanding you do not attend public dances. Obviously we were misinformed." She shot Mary a significant look and Mary blushed.

"I find them diverting, occasionally, Miss Putman," Tavington replied coolly. His tension mounted by the moment. He had known from the first that the girl did not like him, but this? She was being outright rude and seemed to be suggesting that Beth had wished to avoid him! His gaze fell back to Beth and sure enough, her eyes were lowered again, her face turned to the side - pointing away from him.

Where were her blushes? Her small smiles, her sighs? Was she angry with him? No, she seemed too out of countenance - he had seen her angry before, she blazed like the sun at those moments. This was something far different and far more disturbing. He wracked his mind for possible causes.

The rest of the group were falling silent, sensing the growing tension. They cast concerned glances at one another and seemed at a loss of what to say or do. Beth sought solace in Cilla's presence, edging ever closer to her cousin, who still had her arm around Beth's waist.

"Miss Tisdale," Bordon stepped in, trying to recover something from this burning wreckage. "May I introduce you to my friend, Miss Jutland?"

"Good evening Miss Tisdale," Harmony curtsied slightly. If she was nervous under the gaze of so many Ladies, she did not show it.

Mary's eyes widened. _This_ was Harmony - the woman who offered herself to Tavington? Dear Lord - the Captain bought his _mistress_? It shocked her to her core, taking her breath away. A gentle nudge from Colin reminded her of her manners.

"It is nice to meet you, Miss Jutland," Mary said in a quiet voice. She bobbed a curtsy and began the introductions again. Harmony's eyes widened when she was introduced to the Middleton's, they were one of the most prestigious families in the Colonies after all. Mary continued, finished with Cilla and Beth. "And this is Miss Putman and her cousin, Miss Martin."

The women murmured their greetings and curtsied. Beth was still pale, her cheeks had become sallow and her eyes sunken.

"Ah, Miss Martin," Bordon said politely. "I have heard a lot about you - from Tarleton and Tavington," Bordon said.

"Have you?" Beth said weakly.

_Of course, _she thought_. Mary said Banastre and Tavington had spoken of me in front of Bordon. He knows of the wager! He knows of their cruel plan to seduce and ruin me! _

"Indeed - they both regard you highly."

"Regard?" Beth could not help herself. Despite her despair, she laughed softly in derision. "I wouldn't call it _regard_, myself."

She met Tavington's incredulous gaze momentarily, before pulling her eyes away, feeling sick all over again. By now, the others had begun speaking amongst themselves again, and only Cilla, Tavington and Bordon had heard her quietly spoken words.

"Are you a Green Dragoon also?" Rebecca asked Bordon blithely.

"Indeed, I have that blessing Miss. Captain Bordon of the Green Dragoons," Bordon replied politely, glad for the distraction.

"Oh, my brothers want to join the Dragoons, Michael and Marcus. They speak of it all the time!"

"You should tell them to stop by the Assembly Hall," William told Rebecca, though his gaze was on Beth. "We are recruiting to the Dragoons, Bordon and I are conducting interviews."

"Oh, I will be certain to tell them," Rebecca said. "They were here a moment ago, where have they gone? Beth - did the twins tell you where they were going?"

"No," Beth said shortly, keeping her gaze firmly lowered.

"Oh, I give up," Rebecca said. She had been standing on the tips of her toes to search for her brothers. "Your poor friend, Sir - leaving so urgently! Banastre Tarleton is such a wonderful character, is he not? So amiable! I do not think our conversation lulled for a single moment, when ever he has been around!"

"Unfortunately, duty called," Tavington said absently. "He should not be away for too long, however."

"Oh, let us hope not!" Rebecca said passionately. The other girls giggled - all except Beth that is, and Rebecca blushed crimson. She had given too much of her feelings away and risked making a fool of herself. Still, she worried for the handsome Officer. "You do not think anything bad will happen to him, do you Sir?" Rebecca asked.

"Who can say? Tarleton has never lost a battle, but we are at war and nothing is certain," came the serious reply.

"Not a pleasant subject, truly," Harmony stepped in. "We are at a dance, after all. Why aren't we all dancing?"

"Excellent idea Miss Jutland," Tavington affirmed. "Miss Martin, would you care to dance?"

Beth snapped her gaze back to Tavington with raw anxiety, as though her worst nightmare had just begun.

She could not refuse him of course, she could not be openly rude to him in public. Her reluctance was palpable as she stepped forward and took his proffered arm, her eyes fixed directly ahead as he led her away from Watson and the others, to the dancing in the centre of the hall.

As they waited amongst the other couples for the musicians to begin the next set, Beth noticed the incredulous stares she received from the women to either side of her. She was dancing with Lieutenant Colonel Tavington after all.

_They are welcome to him, _she thought despairingly. _Tarleton and Tavington can make wagers of them instead of me._

The music began and Beth's attention was drawn back to her dance partner as he led her forward.

_Just one dance_, she decided as she began to move stiffly.

"You are a puzzle to me this evening, Miss Martin," Tavington said in his quiet drawl. His movements through the dance were fluid and graceful.

"Oh?" She asked guardedly.

"Yes, a puzzle," he mused. "We have enjoyed one another's company on several occasions, but I can not help but feel you seem almost reluctant to see me this evening. Surely it is my imagination." He smiled his warm smile that always made her heart pound. Even now she had to swallow hard and avert her gaze from his.

"Yes, Sir. I am sure it is our imagination." She said softly.

"I was quite pleased to see you this evening," he murmured when he drew closer to her. "You have been on my mind all day."

Bright spots of colour suffused her cheeks, Beth wanted to tell herself it was anger, but she knew better.

_How many sorts of fool am I? _She wondered. He was trying to seduce her, his words could not be trusted. Still Beth felt a glow of warmth in her stomach. His eyes lingered on her lips as though he wanted to kiss them, his eyes met hers and they were full of warmth. And his smile...

Beth gasped a ragged breath and drew away from him.

"I am sorry, Sir. I am feeling poorly and need some fresh air." She whispered raggedly.

After a slight curtsy, she walked away as quickly as her legs could carry her, winding through the crowd thronging the hall. She continued through a pair of double doors, barely noticing friendly waves and people calling her over. She kept going until she reached another set of doors and she pushed through, closing them behind her and was finally outside. She stepped onto the balcony, into the blessed fresh, warm summer night air. She walked unsteadily to the far end of the balcony, gripping the rail for support just in time. Her knees sagged and hot tears seared her eyes.

Her heart pounding, Beth gasped and blinked rapidly, trying to stop the flood of tears before they had a chance to fall. She raised her gaze to the stars and finally began to find a semblance of control over her ragged emotions.

:::

Tavington's warm smile fled. He had tried to be charming, believing she would melt. Only she had whirled away and was now winding her way through the throng of people, frantic in her haste to get away from him. William ignored the curious glances from those close by. He ignored their sudden flare of whispering and immediately followed after her.

He strode briskly through the doors leading to another section of the hall, then with a quick glance over his shoulder to be certain no one was paying him any heed, he stepped out on to the balcony and shut the door quietly behind him. The air was much cooler outside than in the crowded hall. Still, it was South Carolina and it was summer. It was, therefore, warm.

There he found Beth standing at the far end of the balcony leaning against the rail with her back to him. He decided to approach her in silence, he would not allow her to dart away from him again. When he was directly behind her, he reached around her to place his hands on the rail in front of her. His arms on either side of her body, effectively caging her in.

Beth gasped, she arched her body away from him and spun in the circle of his arms.

"What are you doing?" She rasped out. He frowned to see her eyes, shining with unshed tears.

"Miss Martin, why don't you tell me what is so wrong?" His voice was filled with concern. He studied her face and was chagrined to see her tears begin to fall. Breathing heavily, she whirled away again, turning her back on him.

She was still in the cage he had made, but she leaned forward away from him as much as possible and gripped the rail for support.

He breathed out a deep sigh and leaned down to nuzzle her neck. He expected her to sigh, to lean in to his touch as she had so often over the last several days. Instead she recoiled, pressing herself closer to the rail, trying to create distance between them. Tavington stared down at her with concern.

"I must have done something very wrong indeed," he murmured. Perhaps she had learned about Vera, his mistress. Cursing himself a fool - he realised that Vera must indeed be at the root of this. Mary was Beth's friend, perhaps she had discovered his mistress.

Beth continued to sob, she was incapably of replying. Tavington heaved a sigh and stepped forward, his body now pressed to hers. Removing his hands from the rail, he wrapped his strong arms around her body.

Beth hung her head cried convulsively. To be held so securely, so lovingly - but by the man who had caused her this pain!

_Christ, it has to be over Vera - that Goddamned chit Mary told her. _He gazed past Beth, over her head, into the dark night as he waited for her to weeping to calm.

It was a long wait, but finally Beth's weeping became sniffles, then stopped altogether. William reached into his pocket and handed her a large kerchief, then wrapped his arm around her body again.

"Can you tell me now?" He asked softly as she wiped her tears.

"I know of the wager." She whispered.

"Ah." Tavington stiffened, her words doused him cold. Of all the things he had been expecting, this was not even on the list! He blew out a sharp breath and pursed his lips with irritation. "I see."

"That is it?" Beth spat over her shoulder. She laughed bitterly. "At least Banastre apologised, at least _he_ showed remorse!"

"Darling -" Tavington began, ready to tell her anything she desired to hear. She was having none of it, however. Now her weeping had passed, she was blazing with anger.

"Don't!" She whirled around to face him again. Even with her cheeks were blotchy from crying she was still beautiful. Her eyes were chips of ice, however. "Don't you dare '_darling_' me!"

"Very well," Tavington eyed her coolly.

"The two of you have treated me with less respect than you would a whore."

"It was not my intention to hurt you, Miss Martin."

"No?" She asked incredulously. "Seducing me and taking my virginity, only to discard me afterward? Do you imagine that would not have hurt me?"

"No, I imagine it would have hurt you very much," Tavington admitted reluctantly.

"What if you had succeeded? What if you had gotten me with child!"

He had no response for her. If she had fallen pregnant, he would have moved on as he always did. He already had planted his seed in other Colonial women's belly's. Some of those bastards would be a few years old by now.

"And it was all _your_ idea," Beth continued in an accusing tone. She lowered her eyes to his chest, her gaze fixed on a small golden button on his Redcoat. Her brief flare of anger died, replaced with hurt and heart break. In a small voice she asked, "don't you care for me at all? Were you pretending, all this time?"

"Miss Martin, I do care for you," he said, and realised he meant it. That surprised even him. "Perhaps I did not at first, when I first met you all I could think of was bedding you. But my feelings have grown and I realise now that I have come to care for you."

Beth shook her head and laughed again, still bitterly. "I can not bring myself to believe you, Sir."

"No?" He touched her face gently, a stroke of his fingers along her cheek. Beth closed her eyes, her breathing quickened. "Look at me, Beth."

Unwilling to trust her emotions, she kept her eyes stubbornly closed. His touch on her cheek felt too good, the closeness of his body to hers made her feel faint. Tavington sighed.

"I did not realise you had come to feel so strongly for me," he said softly.

Beth finally opened her eyes and met his pale gaze.

"Do not concern yourself too much, Sir. I doubt I am the first to make a fool of myself over you. I doubt I will be the last," she lowered her eyes again with a melancholy sigh. "Please release me, I wish to return the to dancing."

Tavington drew his arms from her reluctantly, releasing her from his embrace.

"How can I fix this?" He asked her as she walked by him.

"You did this, not I," she said tiredly. "I can't imagine how you _could_ possibly fix this."

"Beth..." Tavington was growing exasperated. She had been all but mush is his hands for days! She had almost been his, he'd almost won the wager! How the devil had she learned of it? How did it come to this?

"I have no advice for you," she declared. "And please do not be so familiar with me, you should call address me as 'Miss Martin'."

"Will you not even dance with me tonight?" He asked incredulously.

"_Dance_ with you?" Beth snorted softly. "No, Sir. In fact, I doubt very much that I will so much as _speak_ to you - ever again."

Beth disappeared through the doors, leaving Tavington alone on the balcony with very mixed emotions.

Fury, first and foremost - at being thwarted. He would discover who had revealed his intent and give that person the blasting of their lives!

But, oddly, he felt a heavy weight settle on his heart. Though he did not feel the emotions often, he recognised them instantly. Compassion and... Guilt. There had been naked pain in her eyes and he had been the cause of it.

He was finally ready to face - now, when they had come to an end - that perhaps he had come to feel strongly for her, too.


	14. Chapter 14 - In Beth's Room

**Chapter Fourteen - In Beth's Room**

"Perhaps you should ask her to dance with you?" Bordon advised. Harmony snorted indelicately.

"I would not recommend it, myself," Harmony argued. "If I were her, you would be rebuffed."

"Don't I know it," Tavington managed a smile. "How many times _have_ you rebuffed me? You are one of the few."

"The one of the few with taste," Bordon laughed and pulled Harmony close.

"Don't think I was not tempted," Harmony eyed Tavington up and down with flirting eyes. "You are ever so handsome, and quite... Well set up." Her eyes lingered on the font of his breeches. Her flirting had the desired effect, Tavington laughed aloud. Bordon began to berate her for her wandering eyes. His tone was teasing however, both were merely trying to lift Tavington's spirits.

"Would _you_ like to dance, Miss Jutland?" Tavington offered her his arm.

"Why not, Sir? But keep your hands to yourself, if you don't mind, Richard may become wroth with us both."

"You have my vow," William smirked. He led her to the centre of the hall and joined the lines of couples. They stood facing each other, waiting for the next set to start. Tavington spied Beth further up the line, standing across from Colin Ferguson. The musicians began and Tavington and Harmony began to dance.

"You are full of surprises, Miss Jutland - you are an exceptional dancer. Very graceful."

"Thank you, Sir." Harmony smiled brightly. "You are not bad yourself."

He quirked his lips with a brief smile, though his eyes darted to Miss Martin.

"Is she looking back at you, Colonel?" Harmony asked.

"No. She has not looked at me all evening, unless it was perchance. And then she averts her gaze."

"I have to admit that I am surprised it bothers you. Richard explained the stakes of the wager, I thought you were simply to..." She paused and glanced to either side of her. Others were close enough to hear her words and she continued carefully. "Win the wager and move on."

"I am surprised also. She is not the first Lady I have tried to seduce here in the Colonies. Nor is she the first to reject me. But somehow..." William trailed off, his eyes again searched for Beth.

"Guilt?" Harmony ventured.

Tavington snorted. "Hardly that."

"Hmmm. There is only one other explanation then, my dear."

"And what is that?" He met her gaze with amusement.

"You have fallen hopelessly, helplessly, head over heels in love,." Harmony's tone was light and teasing, though she suspected it was quite true. Even if he was too dense to know it.

"Love, hmm?" Tavington mused. "I admit I regret making such a mess of things. It bothers me that I hurt her. But love?" He shook his head.

"She _is_ very beautiful..."

"So are you, my darling," Tavington smiled and kissed her hand lightly.

"Yes, so am I." Harmony laughed and changed the topic. "How long now, until we leave Charles Town?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tavington and Arthur Simms began making their way up the street toward their favourite tavern, ready to continue the night with drinking and rounds of cards. And perhaps a doxy or two. That would be just the thing, William decided. He did not get far, however, before Bordon came trotting up.

"William, a moment," he called. Then he took Tavington by the arm and steered him away from Simms to speak discreetly. "You might wish to retire for the evening, Sir."

"Oh?" William's eyebrows shot up. "Afraid I'll beat you at cards and win all your money?"

"Well, yes, I am," Bordon snorted. "But that is not the reason. I just saw Miss Martin and her comrades piling into Mary Tisdale's carriage. They were speaking of the fun they had ahead of them - it seems the Ladies have organised a stay over - at the Tisdale's."

"Jesus," William breathed. "Beth too?"

"All of them," Bordon affirmed. "I am not certain where she will be sleeping, but I don't think it would be too hard to discover with a few discreet questions."

"Yes, I think you are quite right. Very well - thank you, Bordon," he turned to Simms and raised his voice. "Sorry, Arthur, something has come up. Perhaps tomorrow night?"

"Yes, Sir," Arthur replied and Tavington left Bordon and Arthur and headed directly for the Tisdale's.

:::::::::::

"Oh, so tired!" Sarah stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "What a night."

"I know, it was wonderful," Rebecca murmured. "I'm sleepy now, though."

"And me. Time for sleep and dreams, I think." Alice climbed off the bed.

The girls had been sitting on Mary's bed for the last few hours, eating sweets and gossiping about the night. For Beth, it had been a pleasant diversion from her anguish over Tavington.

Earlier that evening, when they had come out of the hall, the girls had seen Tavington and Arthur Simms strolling up the street away from them. Beth had sighed with relief - at least that part of the evening would go according to plan. She could enjoy herself at Mary's house knowing Tavington as not there, knowing she would not see him in the morning. Chances were, he would never even know she had been there.

Now Mary escorted them all to their rooms. First Sarah and Rebecca who were sharing, then Cilla and Alice. Lastly, Beth. They stood outside of Beth's door chatting for a few moments, before Mary headed back to her room next door.

When she entered, Beth locked her door behind her. With all the Dragoons in the house - especially one in particular, she thought it prudent. Just in case he did discover she was there.

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dim room. There were very few candles lit, only enough for her to find her way to the bed. She took off her night robe and draped it over the chair. However, as she pulled back to covers to climb into bed, she finally realised she was not alone.

William had been standing by the window, outside of the circle of light, waiting for her to retire.

She stared, her mouth hung open and she was frozen to the spot with utter shock. He began to stride slowly toward her, his boots barely making a sound on the thick carpet.

"I... I thought you were... out... playing cards..." Beth whispered when he stood before her.

"Not tonight," his voice, a soft drawl - sent shivers along her spine. "Not when I discovered you were spending the night here."

She had to crane her neck to gaze up at him.

"It was not hard to discover which chamber was to be yours," an even softer whisper, his eyes burning blue fire. "Right down the hall from mine."

His dark hair, unbound from its usual queue, framed his handsome face. His white ruffled shirt open down the front of his chest.

"How could I attend some card game in some tavern, knowing that?" A small smile played around the corners of his mouth as he stared down at her.

"Your room is not far from mine?" Her knees felt weak, it was difficult to breathe.

Visions of him laying in his bed whirled through her mind. Would he sleep as he was dressed now, in his shirt and light breeches? Or did he sleep naked. A quick indrawn breath and Tavington's smiled broadened, seeming to read her thoughts.

"Right across the hall, my darling," his soft drawl held a trace of amusement.

A small voice in the corner of her mind screamed at her to send him away, but she could barely move and could not break her eyes from his hot gaze. He was so close, she could smell his clean scent. His hair was still wet from his bath, the smell of apple pomade lingered in the air.

"I can hear your heart beating, little Beth," he took her soft hands in his and Beth lowered her eyes to his chest.

"Sir," she whispered, "you should not be in my room, you need to leave..."

"I know, I should not be in your room..." Tavington's voice was still soft, and he made no move to leave. "I can not leave, however. We have unfinished business."

He leaned down to nestle his nose in her hair, inhaling with a deeply contented sigh.

"You are so beautiful, Beth, I have longed to see you with your hair down... I had not realized it was so long," He gently brushed a stray golden lock from Beth's face, letting his fingers glide along her cheek, down to her chin. He tipped her face up to his and Beth swallowed hard.

After several deep breathes, she tried again.

"Why are you here? If you are discovered... You need to leave!"

"I am here to apologise, Beth," he leaned down to brush his lips along her neck. Beth shivered and leaned closer to him. "It was poor judgement on my part," another kiss, "I should not have treated you so."

"No, you should not have," She murmured. Tilting her head to one side, she bared her neck to him. His lips felt so good... When he removed his lips from her neck, she sighed with disappointment. Glancing up, she met his gaze. "You hurt me, Sir."

He flinched to hear the raw pain in her voice. That heavy weight settled on his chest again.

"I know." He said softly.

Banastre had apologised to her, had shown remorse, Beth had told him earlier. Tavington cupped her chin with both his hands, his pale gaze intent.

"I am sorry, Beth," he said sincerely. He bent his head to hers, stopping all further speech, all further thought.

The voice that had been screaming in the corner of her mind was only a weak whisper now. It disappeared completely when he gently brushed his lips along hers. Beth sighed and stood on the tips of her toes. She pressed herself to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding on for dear life.

Tavington relished how soft and warm her lips felt beneath his. He rocked his head to the side and she sighed again as he deepened the kiss. He groaned with pleasure and she opened her eyes to gaze at him, his usually cold eyes were warm and bright.

He drew back to gaze down at her for a moment. "You were wrong, my darling. I would not have discarded you," he said softly, sincerely.

"I will not be your mistress," her whisper deadly serious, even stern.

"Beth..." Disappointment rifled through him.

"No. It does not matter how strongly I feel for you. Whatever this thing is between us. None of it matters, I am worth more than to be some man's mistress."

He held her unblinking gaze.

"Yes, you are," he agreed reluctantly. He could not marry her, and she would not be his mistress. Whatever this thing was, it was doomed from the start.

With a heavy sigh, Tavington twined his fingers through her long hair, caressing the nape of her neck. Resuming the kiss, he urged her lips to part. Sliding his tongue into her mouth tentatively, he began to explore her.

"Oh..." Beth despaired.

With a whimper, she gripped his waist. He tightened his hold to hold her in case she swooned. Small pleasurable flips shot through her stomach and spread through her.

She had never felt anything like it before. So wonderful, her knees almost gave way. It was the most intimate thing she could ever imagine, his tongue gliding in her mouth, tasting her, stroking her tongue. She followed his lead. A flush spread through her body, chasing away all thought.

Tavington rocked his head to the other side and grew more bold. Kissing in earnest now, they clutched each other close. Their breaths mingled, growing deeper and more urgent with each passing second.

Hot thrills flared along her spine. An ache she had never known before bloomed between her thighs. And still it continued, his lips moving on hers. His touch harder now, their tongues dueling even as he walked her backward until her back was pressed to the wall.

With a groan he pulled his lips from hers and began an urgent trail of kisses from her jaw and down her neck. He breathed raggedly as he nipped and sucked the soft skin of her throat, moving down to her shoulder.

Beth was in heaven. It felt so lovely, warm, tingly, intimate. But after a short time, she began to need the feel of his lips on hers again. She reached up and gripped his hair lightly, tugging to guide his head back up to kiss her.

Tavington chuckled with gratification, pleased at her assertiveness, her willingness to take charge.

They both groaned and kissed for timeless moments, breathing heavily into one another's mouths. His hands on her hips now, he gripped a handful of her long shift, began to draw it slowly up her slim legs. Higher and higher her shift rose as he kissed her, the hem now midway up her thighs, above the garters that held her stockings.

Beth finally became aware again. The voice in the corner of her mind roared for attention and this time she listened and obeyed.

Placing her fingers over his strong hands, she stopped his progress wordlessly. Drawing away from their kiss, she rested her head on his hard chest, breathing raggedly and trying to gather her wits.

"Darling?" his voice...

Lord - that voice would be her undoing.

She could not allow it, it had to stop.

Finally in control of herself, she lifted her head from his chest to gaze up at him. He smiled mischievously and tried to kiss her, but Beth finally had command of her body again. And of her emotions.

This could not be allowed to continue, the bed was so close, so inviting. The ache between her thighs so strong...

No, she could not give herself to him, it had to end now.

With a strangled gasp, she pulled her gaze from his and sidled out from between him and the wall.

"Beth," his voice was ragged with desire. He placed his hand on her arm to stop her from walking away.

She swallowed, wanting to let him. Then she shook her head, shook his hand off her arm and continued her slow way across the room toward the door.

"Beth!" More insistently now. Beth was at the door now, turning the key to unlock it. "Where are you going? Beth!"

Finally understanding her intention, he began to walk quickly to stop her.

Not daring to meet his eyes for fear she would lose her resolve, she opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Her legs where unsteady as she walked next door to Mary's room and knocked quietly. She tried the handle and the door opened, Mary had not locked it.

"What is it, Beth?" Mary asked sleepily from her bed.

"Nothing, I.. Uh... Can I borrow a ribbon to tie back my hair?"

"Of course," Mary rose and stumbled to her dresser, still fuddled and sleepy from being woken.

Beth took the time to urge strength into her weakened knees. She could hear the door to her own room open and shut, Tavington leaving.

Mary handed her a blue ribbon.

"Thank you, dear heart. I'm sorry to have disturbed you." Beth opened Mary's door and peeked up the hallway to ensure Tavington was, indeed, leaving and not playing some trick. She saw him disappear up the hallway so she slipped out of Mary's room and went back to her own.

She closed her door behind her and went to lock the door.

Only the key was missing. The whole was empty where the key had been.

Beth's eyes widened with dawning horror - Tavington had taken it. He intended to return to her during the night.

She panicked, suddenly cold with fear. If he did return to her during the night... With a shudder she realised she could not trust herself. It had been hard enough to break away from him just now, there was no doubt in her mind - she would give herself to him if he came to her again.

It could not be. With haste, she threw her door open and ran up the hallway in the direction that Tavington had taken.

She caught up to him as he was about to descend the stairs - she could hear voices from the parlor below, someone laughed. Sweet Lord - if anyone saw her now..!

Her long blonde hair was in wild disarray, over her shoulders and down her back, and she wore only her shift.

"Sir!" Her brown eyes where wide with horror as she grabbed William by the arm. "Did you take my _key_?"

"Yes, I did," Tavington admitted carelessly. He smiled and slowly reached into his coat, to pull forth the stolen key. "It was cruel of you, to leave me so needful..."

Beth, ignoring his words, snatched it from his fingers in case he tried to tease her and pull it away. She cast panic stricken glances all around her, fearing discovery. With haunted eyes, she met his amused gaze.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Her voice was an anguished whisper, she held the key gingerly as though it burned her fingers. "First the wager, now this! Are you trying to _destroy_ me?"

"No, of course not!" Tavington shook his head, suddenly contrite. He took a step toward her, his arms out in a placating gesture.

Beth held his gaze for another moment, accusation in her eyes, then whirled away as he reached for her.

"Beth, come here!" He hissed, but she ignored him and dashed to her room. Her hand was shaking as she locked the door behind her.

:::::::::::::::::

He reached for her, but she was too quick. Like a rabbit, she darted away and ran swiftly down the hall. Chasing her was risky, but they were very much alone and so he did just that. He reached her chamber in time for the door to be closed in his face. He could hear the key being turned.

A gentle knock on her door produced nothing.

He was tempted to bang on her door, demand she let in him - he was certainly angry enough. His erection was painful, so hard and needful after their kissing. If he could just get her to let him in, perhaps he could charm her, coax her into pleasuring him...

But no, he could not risk being caught pounding on her door. It was not to be, she would not give herself to him. And she would not pleasure him to his own completion either, he suspected.

It was not to be.

Guilt and desire did not make for a happy bedfellows, it made him surly.

Rejected... She rejected him... His eyes glittered - two blue furnaces. He strode quickly toward Vera's room, she would take care of his need. She was not alone, however - her maid was with her, helping her undress for the night.

"This is a surprise," his lover eyed him up and down as her maid brushed her hair. "I was not expecting to come to you until later."

William tightened his lips, saying nothing.

He did not want to fuck his mistress. He wanted _Beth_.

His body felt weak from desire and unfulfilled sex. His cock ached - a deep hurt in need of relief. Despite her assertions that she would not be his mistress, he had been ready to take the girl, right there, against the wall.

But she had rejected him and now he had to settle for Vera. Who sat before him, gazing up at him with a small satisfied smile. He wanted to wipe it off her face with the back of his hand.

Her maid continued, stroking her mistresses hair slowly, carefully, gently.

Too _fucking_ slow! He stormed forward, his pale eyes blazing.

"Get out!" He hissed down at the suddenly frightened maid. She trembled as he snatched the brush from her grip and threw it against the wall. She was already running from the room before the brush hit the floor with a thud.

"My, my - what has gotten into - eek!" Vera cut off with a yelp. Tavington had grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. She grunted as her back hit the wall. He pinned her in place with his body, giving her no room to sidle away as Beth had done.

A mere wisp of a girl, rejecting _him_! Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington! With a snarl he gripped the top of Vera's shift and jerked it open, tearing the precious silk all the way down the middle.

"William!" Vera bemoaned - silks where expensive after all.

"Shut it!" He growled, already working at the laces of his cotton pants, freeing his erection. His knee parted her thighs and he was pressing his hips forward, rubbing against her soft curls.

"Oh God," Vera moaned - with desperate need now, forgetting all about her silks. She lifted onto her the tips of her toes and wrapped one leg around his hips. Tavington grabbed her beneath her buttocks and lifted her higher, then lowered her down onto his length. He impaled her with one stroke.

Fucking bitch, this was not who he wanted to be inside!

He slammed into her fiercely with frustration, hard and deep, his pelvis snapping back and forth faster. He grunted against her ear in time with his pounding. She turned her head, trying to catch his lips against hers but he jerked away.

She was not who he wanted to be _kissing_ either!

Her fingers twined through his hair, grasping painfully. She squealed and squirmed, her hips jutting back and forth, writhing on his length.

Panting heavily now, Tavington dug his fingers into her buttocks, heedless of any pain. Intent on his own release, he did not care if she felt pleasure, was barely aware of her coos and gasps of delight.

She is a god damned farm girl. A _bloody_ farm girl!

He thrust into Vera brutally as he thought of Beth. Of her sweet smell, her lips on his, her body - so _deliciously_ pressed between his and the wall.

He thought of her rejection. Ice and fire scorched his veins as he pummeled back and forth.

_I am Colonel Fucking Tavington!_

He had not realised he had snarled the latter aloud against Vera's ear.

"Oh, yes, oh my God, oh you are! You are my Colonel, oh, harder, my Colonel! Oh William! Oh, dear heart -"

He grimaced with fury and covered her mouth with his hand.

No, no _'dear heart's'_, not from this whore. Not when he wanted to hear the words from Beth.

_'Her Colonel?'_ Hardly! He could have laughed, if he was not in such a fucking rage.

"I said shut it!" he grated and the silly woman fell silent, almost swooning, lack of air and pleasure making her faint. He released her and she gasped frantically.

A few more brutal thrusts and Tavington threw back his head, almost howled like a wolf as the tingle of fire became a tidal wave, blazing from his cock throughout his entire body. His hot seed spilled in agonized bursts as he came - his climax lasted timeless moments, finally fading, taking his rage, his fury, with it.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, calm and sated, yet oddly empty. His guilt had not gone - only the anger.

"We are through, Vera," he found himself saying. "I am done with you."

He felt her stiffen, her entire body grew rigid. Withdrawing his spent member, he settled her back on her feet.

"What?" She breathed. "You can't be serious. No - why would you... You must be joking!"

"Not at all. I am done with you. I will settle for second best no longer."

"Second best..." She shook her head with disbelief, clutching her torn silk shift around her. "There is somebody else. I knew it. I've always known it!" Her voice drove up an octave.

"Yes, there is," he admitted. He tightened the drawstring and tied the laces on his pants. "Why don't you start shrieking Vera?" He taunted.

"You fucking bastard - why did you come here then? Why did you do this?" She waved her arms, indicating the two of them.

"I was in need. I could not have the woman I wanted," his voice was soft, cruel. "However, to my very great disappointment, you were unable to satisfy me."

"You fucking bastard! To flaunt her - who is she!"

"What does it matter? I am ending it with you now. I know you are a vicious little creature and I will not allow you to avenge yourself on her. No, you will not be told who she is."

"You will get out of this house, do you hear! I want you gone!"

"Oh, do be serious, you do not have the authority to have me removed."

"My husband does. I'll tell him of our affair! He will be rid of you!"

"And of you, you stupid woman." Tavington laughed in Vera's face as she paled with sudden understanding. Her lover had used her, was leaving her, and there was not a damned thing she could do about it. "Good evening to you, Mrs. Tisdale," the Officer bowed formally and turned from her, closing the door quietly behind him.

Vera was stock still against the wall. Her mind raced, twisted and turned, trying to figure out a way to avenge herself without exposing her affair to her husband.

She would lose everything. Her daughter Mary, her husband - who she did care for when it came down to it. The pampered life she enjoyed so well, her fine dresses. Her standing in society - all of it - gone.

There was nothing she could do - Tavington would continue to live in her house, mocking her every time she passed him in the hall, at dinner, in the parlor when they shared a brandy or two before bedding down for the night. And he would not come to her, not ever again. He would not kiss her, would not touch her, would not enter her.

Never again.

It was not to be borne. He must pay for this. He must! She would find a way... Some how...


	15. Chapter 15 - Enemy Missives

**Chapter Fifteen - Enemy Missives**

After a sleepless night, Beth rose at the crack of dawn. She sought out Mary and announced she was ill and needed to return home. Her red rimmed eyes and sallow cheeks helped convince her friends that she was indeed sick.

Beth had no desire to ruin Cilla's plans for the day and she managed to convince her very concerned cousin that she would be fine at home alone.

Mr. Tisdale took Beth home in his carriage, leaving the rest of the youths to enjoy their day. It was only eight o'clock by the time she walked through the front door, but her Aunt and Uncle were already out. With a heavy sigh, Beth climbed the stairs and went directly to her room, where she threw herself down on her bed.

She lay there for some time, tossing and turning. Finally giving it up as a bad job - there would be no sleep for her today - she went down to the parlor to read. Perhaps it would help relax her, calm her. But she found, when she sat down with a leather bound novel in her hand, that she could barely concentrate on the words.

No matter what she tried, she simply could not pull her mind away from thoughts of Tavington. Standing before her in the dimly lit chamber, kissing her so thoroughly. His tongue on hers had been... Enlightening and delightful. But then he had to go and ruin it all, when he pressed her to the wall and began lifting her shift. If only he had not done that, if only he had not pushed her.

And then to discover he had taken the key to her chamber! Dear Lord... She had allowed herself to be duped by him all over again! But it had been such a relief, it had felt so wonderful, to reconcile with him after all that heart ache and despair! He had chased them all away, all those horrible feelings. She had not felt that terrible desolation when his arms were around her. And when he kissed her. Lord, she'd never felt so warm, so... Charmed. So... _Loved_.

"Love," Beth sighed aloud. "He is not in love with you, Beth."

She lay back on the chaise and put her feet up. Staring at the ceiling, she considered asking her Aunt if she was in a position to leave Charles Town earlier. It took a lot of preparing, to pack and close a house and organise the departure. It had not been helped with Charlotte's urgent visit to her Aunt at Rhode Island! Furthermore, Charlotte wanted to oversee all of the details of the removal, but Beth wondered if perhaps the servants would do well enough without her.

"Miss Martin?" Marcus, the dear old butler, came in bearing a cup of tea for Beth and a letter - from Colonel Burwell.

"Oh...! Thank you, Marcus!" She took the letter from the tray and tore into the envelope.

_What timing! _She thought. To receive correspondence from Harry now, when she was feeling so low, meant more to Beth than she could say. She began reading at once.

_Dearest Beth,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am, thus far, well and unwounded._

_I will not burden you with news of the war - I do not like to write of such things to you. I wish to keep you apart, in my mind, from the strife and conflict that surrounds me every minute of every day. I will say only this - we have skirmished several times with the enemy and are continually being pushed toward North Carolina. Because of this, I know not when I shall be reunited with you._

_Please know that I berate myself constantly over my conduct toward you. The British were outside the gates and I had to get Governor Rutledge away. I dare say, I allowed my fear for you to get the better of me. Only the Lord knows what you must think of me! _

_I still harbor concerns that you will be made a target in the event that Clinton discovers how dear you are to me. Nevertheless, you were quite correct to defer your answer to my proposal of marriage. To run away with me that very day and marry me in camp was not the best course of action. As disappointed as I was by your answer, I do understand this. I dare to presume that you and I are very close to resolving our future together. _

_Being parted from you, I admit freely, it is the worst kind of torture. I sincerely hope you do not doubt my feelings for you, Beth. Never doubt how deeply I love you, how ardently I desire you to be my wife._

_I long to gaze upon your beautiful face, to hold you in my arms again. If only I could steal into Charles Town, for a day, even an hour. I lose all my good sense when it comes to you, I think I would be foolish enough to attempt it if only to kiss you again. Perhaps I should have stolen you away after all; your father wishes us to marry and I am sure he would have forgiven me eventually, though your Aunt would not have._

_You devoted love_

_Colonel Harry Burwell_

:::

Beth read the letter through a second time. Burwell's words went a long way to lifting her spirits, though she was still far from cheerful.

Just in front of her, near to hand, was a small table. Beth placed the letter and envelope onto the table and picked up her cup to sip her tea. Though she was still very melancholy over Tavington, she felt a loosening in her shoulders and some of her anxiety began to melt from her. Perhaps she would finally be able to sleep a little, thanks for Burwell's letter.

Tavington had treated her very poorly, but once she was married to the Patriot Colonel, she need never fear being treated so callously by any man again. She need not fear that her virtue will be stripped from her by a man whose only desire was conquest.

Burwell was stolid and dependable. Strong and implacable. He would allow no one to treat her so ill again.

Of course, Harry did not have her in a whirlwind of emotion, giddy with happiness, anticipation and excitement. But he never had her at the depths of despair, either - not like Tavington. She had never felt so out of control as she had these last few days, since the British Officer had come into her life.

He had her swaying from one emotion to the next where Harry had always had her on an even keel. And she preferred an even keel, she decided, now that she had experienced stormy seas. Preferred to have calmness in her life.

Besides, it was not as though she had a _choice_! She would not be _choosing_ between the two! Tavington had not been courting her for marriage - but for a single night of pleasure that would prove her undoing, her destruction. And she could kiss Harry goodbye forevermore if she allowed herself to be so foolish. Indeed, she would find a difficult time finding a husband at all, if she allowed Tavington his way.

She would be dependent on her families charity forevermore. She would not be allowed in _polite_ society again - especially if she got with child! A woman needed to be under the protection of her father and then her husband. But if she allowed Tavington his way with her, there would _be_ no husband. And her father - dear Lord, he would be disgusted with her!

Living on Benjamin's charity, after ruining herself with a British Officer, would not make a pleasant life for her. Not by a long shot.

No, Beth thought as she placed her empty tea cup on its saucer on the table. It could never be - not with Tavington. Despite how painful it was, she found solace in taking control of her life once more. She had been utterly out of control these last few days, dancing on Tavington's strings!

No more. She decided her course of action - she would accept Burwell's proposal and the two of them would marry.

She lay back on the chaise and draped one arm over her eyes. Relaxation washed through her, she knew she would finally be able to sleep. When she woke she would write to Burwell immediately, informing him of her decision - that they were now officially engaged.

It would have to be a secret engagement for now, until she was able to leave Charles Town. Harry would understand, she felt certain. Once she was safely returned to her father, they could speak with Reverend Oliver and have the banns announced. But for now, it must be kept in the utmost secrecy - she would only tell her family, Mary and Colin. No others.

It astounded her, how much relief she could feel from that one little decision. It felt good to have some control over her life once more.

Finally, after a anxious and sleepless night, Beth nodded off to sleep.

::::::::::::

"Miss Martin, Colonel Tavington is here to see you."

Beth blinked bleary eyed at Marcus, barely able to take in his words through the foggy haze of sleep.

"Marcus..." She said thickly, trying to shed the last vestiges of sleep. "I'm not dressed for receiving... My hair! I only just woke from a nap!" Her tone became imperious. "No - I will not see him, send him away at once."

However, before Marcus could turn to do Beth's bidding, Lieutenant Colonel Tavington strode into the room, stopping short in the doorway. Beth stared at him - his face was thunder! He had heard her declaration, that she would not see him.

With deliberate, crisp movements, he placed his fur crested helmet on a nearby table. He then began removing his gloves, snapping at one finger at a time, then jerking them from his hands. He slapped the gloves down beside his helmet, then turned sharply to face her.

His expression was stone.

Beth rose reluctantly to meet him. Marcus shot a brief look of disapproval at Tavington's back, for not waiting for permission to enter. She nodded to him and he retreated from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

" 'I will not see him'?" Tavington repeated her words dangerously. " 'Send him away at once' ?"

He advanced on her and Beth's eyes grew larger with each step. When he stood directly before her, she had to crane her neck to hold his gaze. His very stance demanded instant apologies and subservience.

"I..." She hesitated, flustered. "I am not dressed for receiving," she said lamely.

"I could hardly care if you are not 'dressed to receive' and I do not care if you hair is not done." Tavington's words were clipped with fury. "You will _not_ send me away"

"Very well," Beth swallowed, thoroughly intimidated by him. He loomed over her, making her feel so small. "This is most unexpected, however. What brings you here?"

"You know perfectly well what brings me here, Beth," his tone still clipped. "Shall we sit? I do not wish to distress you further."

A very pale Beth dropped to the chaise and Tavington sat carefully beside her. He took one of her small hands in his.

"I came here to apologize for last night," his tone softened slightly. "I understand how distraught I made you. I should not have taken the key to your room, I should not have been in your room in the first place." He tightened his lips with irritation and continued in that same earnest tone, willing her to understand. "After spending the entire night watching you dance with other men, I needed to be with you. It was poor judgement on my part."

"You seem to suffer from poor judgement often," recovering herself somewhat, Beth's reply was tart.

"Yes, I have suffered so of late. It seems you bring out the worst in me."

"Would you have come back to me during the night, as you'd obviously intended?" Beth asked suspiciously.

"Yes, Beth, as a matter of fact I _did_ come back to you. Did you not hear me knock on your door? I had hoped you would take me in, despite..." His tone became very warm - passionate. "Good Lord, Beth, you are so beautiful, such a temptation. Can you truly blame a man for trying?" Tavington smiled and kissed the tips of her fingers softly.

"I knew it! You _ARE_ trying to ruin me!" Beth flared up at once, she jerked her fingers from his grasp. "What if you had been found in my room? Or if someone had come along when you were knocking on my door? People would assume I was encouraging you, no matter what I said to the contrary!"

"Beth," he protested. "I am not trying to ruin you -"

"And yet you knock on my door in the middle of the night! What must you think of me, if you believe me the sort of woman to let you in?"

"I think very highly of you, Beth -"

"Oh, yes, it shows in your conduct toward me!" Beth spat, her tone was thick with sarcasm.

"Beth, if only you knew how it felt - to make love. You would understand why I have gone to such extremes for you," he told her. "It is not that I do not regard you highly, it is because I am so enamored of you."

Beth's breath caught, to hear those words from him.

Sensing he was making progress with the girl, Tavington reached out to touch her cheek, willing her to understand.

"You know some of it now, I suspect," he said gently. "You can not deny how pleasing it was when I kissed you."

Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment and she shook her head, ready to protest.

"Come now," he said softly before she could speak. "You felt it - we both did. You should admit that much."

"You want me to admit it?" She asked. "Sir, why do you keep pushing me this way?"

"I'm not pushing you, darling. I am merely trying to make you understand that it is not my lack of regard for you, that has caused me to behave as I have. It is my _desire_ for you."

"Oh, please don't say things like that!" Beth felt like weeping. It was so hard to hold to her resolve when he was sitting so closely beside her, his hands holding hers. She could smell his scent, could feel his eyes boring into her. He might not be in love with her, but she was _very_ much in love with him!

"It is the simple truth," he told her. "If only you knew..."

He sighed heavily and gazed at her, wishing she would allow him to show her, rather than merely tell her. The building of that pleasure, the tension in ones body, that striving for release and then - the penultimate - that rush of heat and sensation - pure pleasure - pulsing through ones body, lasting for long, heavenly moments... If only he could make her see...

"Beth, what you felt when we kissed - that pleasure is a drop in the ocean compared to..." He stopped and held her gaze, she knew of what he was speaking. She seemed to be listening, hanging on to his every word. Her brown eyes were bright, her breath in quick spurts. She wanted to be convinced of his feelings for her, he could sense it.

"Darling, a man would do anything, risk anything, to make love to a beautiful woman," he said now. "I desire you, and yes - I am enamored of you."

Beth swallowed and her fingers trembled in his.

"I was not trying to ruin you," he continued. "Now that I have explained myself, I admit that you are quite right. My conduct toward you has left a lot to be desired."

"Yes, it has," Beth whispered and lowered her eyes. She was ready to be convinced now, ready to fall into his arms all over again. Though she knew it was absurd, she knew she was letting her heart rule her - it was just too hard to refuse him, when it would cause _her_ pain to do so.

"I do not often admit when I am wrong, Beth," he said gently. He placed two fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head to meet his eyes. "I wish to make amends. I have behaved poorly, but Beth - all I wish for now is that we return to how it was before."

"So do I," she admitted quietly.

"I want to see you smile again," he said. "You are beautiful, have I told you?"

"Yes," she blushed and licked her lips.

"Your smile lights up your face," he continued. Pulling her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingertips gently, slowly, one at a time. Gentle kisses, lingering caresses. Beth's breath caught and she began to melt, leaning closer to him.

He met her gaze and saw her eyes filled with despair and longing.

"Oh, Beth," he murmured and pulled her into his embrace. He cupped one hand to her cheek as he kissed her, slowly and deeply. Nudging her lips apart, he slid his tongue into her mouth. She responded as he had shown her the previous evening, returning his kiss until was breathless and faint.

"Sir," Beth whispered against his lips, "how do you do it? Not half an hour ago I had resolved never to see you again. But you have such an effect on me..."

"And you on me, little Beth", he replied warmly. "My name is _William_, Beth. I see no need for us to be so formal with each other."

"William...?" Saying his name for the first time sent shivers along her spine.

Tavington smiled and held her tighter. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body close as his lips sought hers again.

Tavington had almost forgotten how pleasurable it could be, to hold a woman tenderly and simply _kiss_ her - nothing more.

Bedding was always his ultimate goal, he had quite forgotten the charm and the innocence of kissing. His lips drifted to her neck and he reveled in her sigh. She stroked his face with his fingers and he moved back up to her lips once more. They continued for some time, their lips brushing together, their tongues exploring.

Eventually, however his erection asserted itself. The bulge was becoming painful in his breeches and he drew away from her, lest he push her too far again. She followed him as he drew back, trying to coax him for more.

"We better stop, little Beth," He placed both his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back. "I am not made of stone."

"Nor am I, it seems," she whispered. She shucked off his restraining hands and sidled closer. Leaning in, she began kissing his neck as he had done to her.

"Christ," he murmured. Her lips left a moist trail along his skin, he turned his head to the side to give her more room. Her fingers wound through his cravat to drag it lower, and she nibbled and suckled his neck as he had done her. So damned good...

"I would have chosen you, William," she whispered against his skin. "Not Banastre."

"I know," he laughed.

She stopped kissing him instantly, even drew away from him.

"You are insufferable," she accused him. "So full of yourself."

"I've been so accused," he laughed down at her. "But darling, it is good to hear you say it all the same. Even if I did already know."

Beth rolled her eyes. But then he was kissing her again, his lips moving over hers, and all thought fled.

A few more moments of this and Tavington took a firm hold of her again. He dragged her arms from his neck and pushed her back.

"You are torturing me, darling. You have to remember I am only made of flesh, little one."

Beth sighed heavily and collapsed back against the couch. He was still leaning forward slightly, so she rubbed her hand along his broad back, then began twirling his queue in her fingers.

"Is kissing really a drop in the ocean, compared to...?" She blushed crimson.

_Good Lord, I can't believe I just asked him that._

He twisted around and met her gaze, his eyes open wide with shock. Then he began to laugh at her.

"I think I've corrupted you," he chuckled. "But to answer your question, yes. Kissing is a drop in the ocean. A candle beside a blaze. Perhaps," he smirked, knowing who she would respond to his next words. "One day you will allow me to show you."

"No Sir!" Beth declared. She drew her arm from his back and leaned forward beside him. "No, I will _not_ let you show me."

"Ah, my darling," he quipped. "You don't know what you're missing."

"One day I will know," she arched an eyebrow. "But not until I am married."

Tavington arched an eyebrow, he held her gaze and she stared back implacably. With challenge. He considered his next words carefully, for he could not lead her to believe there was any sort of understanding between them. He would marry Miss Eleanor Price for her twenty thousand and her apartment in London - not a Colonial girl - no matter how enamored of her he had become.

"He will be a lucky man," he said finally. "Your husband. I will envy him to my dying day."

Beth drew a sharp breath and lowered her eyes. It was as she had suspected, he would never court her for marriage.

He studied her for a few moments, she would not meet his gaze. The silence lay heavily between them and Tavington searched his mind for something to say to lighten the suddenly awkward moment. He glanced about him, then spied a partially folded letter and envelop on the table.

"Were you reading a letter, when I came in?" He asked by way of breaking the ice.

Beth swallowed. She stared at the letter with growing anxiety.

"Yes," she tried to keep her voice light. She reached out - not too hurriedly - to pick up the letter, with the intention of slipping it into her skirts pockets.

Her hands were shaking, however. And as she took hold of the letter, the envelope slipped and fell to the floor.

Tavington swooped down to pick it up for her, an innocent and helpful gesture. Only, when he passed it to her, he caught sight of the salutation on the back.

He stopped dead, staring at the name with shock. After a few brief moments, he raised his eyes to Beth's. She began breathing heavily at his stone cold expression.

"Colonel Harry Burwell," he stated. "You've received a letter from Colonel Burwell."

"Yes," she whispered.

Jealousy, sharp and shocking, rifled through him. He pushed the feeling away with irritation - now was not the time.

"And the letter?" He asked her.

"Ah," she glanced down where she held it in her lax fingers. "I..."

"Have received an enemy missive, and therefore will hand it over to a British Officer," he finished for her coldly. He held his hand out expectantly.

Beth hesitated. She couldn't show him the letter - he would discover Burwell's true feelings for her. Tavington had let slip several times over the last few days, his desire to capture the 'enemy' Colonel. She had sensed his frustration that thus far, Tavington had found no weakness in Burwell.

If he read the letter he would discover a very strong weakness indeed.

She was taking too long, frozen where she was, almost panting. Tavington was growing more tense and impatient by the moment. He resisted the urge to snatch the letter from her fingers.

"Choose wisely, Miss Martin," he said coldly and twitched his fingers, indicating she should pass him the letter _NOW_.

"I... It is nothing, a trifle," she said unwisely. "It -"

"Is an enemy missive and you - will - give - it - to me! If you do not, you will be proving yourself a rebel!"

"A rebel?" She breathed.

"Colonel Harry Burwell," Tavington said in a hard voice. Beth shrank from him. "I know you are a Patriot, but this? This is _treason_, Beth!"

"Treason..?" She whispered, not understanding the full implication. "I don't think -"

"Treason!" He asserted ruthlessly. "Were you planning on showing me the letter? Of informing myself or another British Officer of its existence?"

She could only shake her head and Tavington leaned closer to her, eye to eye.

"Then that _would_ make you a traitor," he snarled. "For Colonel Burwell is an enemy to His Majesty the King and we are at war!"

"Traitor..." Breathing heavily, all Beth could do was repeat his words, her eyes wide with fear. Her heart pounded in her chest and sweat broke out on her forehead.

"What else could you be? This is an_ enemy missive_!" Surely she must see that, surely she was not so witless?

She shrank further away, fearful, uncomprehending. She didn't understand.

Tavington snarled and snatched the letter from her fingers. He shot her a hard glare, then began reading through it quickly. His face darkened with every word he read. His grip tightened on the parchment and it tore across the middle.

"William?" She ventured, she could not take his silence any longer. "Please, I don't understand -"

He turned to her slowly and Beth quailed, his face was so hard and stern! Such a glare!

"You," he said, folding the letter carefully and placing it in his coat pocket. "Have been lying to me, it seems."

"William -"

"Silence!" He commanded and she snapped her mouth shut. "You lied to me, deliberately misled me. You allowed me to believe you refused Burwell irrevocably. You told me that neither of you care for the other - it was to be a marriage of convenience only. This is what _you told me_ Beth, word for word."

The blood drained from her face. He was not finished however. He continued, his words clipped with fury.

"Despite what you have led me to believe, judging by Burwell's own words, it is far from settled between you," he ground out. "Judging by his words, he is in love with you and still expects to marry you. You did not refuse him - as you told me, you merely _deferred_ your answer!"

He paused, waiting for her to speak, to explain herself. She could not find the words, however. She was incapable of speech.

"Why did you lie?" He asked.

"Because..." she closed her eyes and fought back a wave of nausea. "I was scared."

His eyebrows lifted and he tilted his chin, waiting quietly for her to continue.

"I feared... That if you knew... I would be taken hostage. That Clinton or Cornwallis would use me to wring concessions from him, or even call for him to exchange himself for my freedom."

"Hmm," he studied her frightened face carefully, it seemed she was not so witless as he had thought a few moments ago. "And this?" he patted his pocket which held the letter. "Would you have told me that Burwell had written to you?"

"No, I admit I wouldn't have told you - but William - there was nothing in it! Not anything about the war!" She cried, then continued in a small voice, "it was just an innocuous, harmless letter."

It was an effort to control himself, to act on his fury.

"Innocuous. Harmless," he repeated coldly, his eyes blazing over hers frightening her to silence. "Innocuous. Harmless."

"I... I just - I don't see how you would have made use of it anyway," she said. She placed her hands out imploringly. "There was no information regarding his plans or..." She searched for the right words, "there was no _Intelligence_ in it. He does not even stipulate where he is!"

"I see," he said, his tone became mocking. "You are a military person then, hmm?"

She stared at him blankly.

"Trained to read into the meanings behind words, are you?" He arched an eyebrow.

"No," she hung her head.

"No?" He asked sarcastically. "I did not think so. First of all, it is not for you to decide if an enemy missive holds anything of import. It is not for you to understand - your sole responsibility ends with the passing along of these letters, and all future correspondence you receive from Burwell, is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," she said. She stared at her hands in her lap - they were trembling.

"Secondly," he continued in a voice colder than the grave, "there happens to be plenty of important intelligence in this letter."

She glanced up at him with surprise and apprehension. He smiled back chillingly.

"Would you like me to tell you what I have learned?" He asked quietly. She swallowed. She did not want him to tell her, but she sensed he was going to regardless. "That Burwell is close by, for one."

"No - he says... They aren't..." She protested. He heaved an impatient sigh.

"He would not have mentioned 'stealing into Charles Town for an hour simply to kiss you again', if he weren't close by. Another point of fact?" He arched an eyebrow and Beth lowered her gaze again. It was too much for her, she had never seen him like this before. "He has rebels positioned close to you, watching you."

Beth frowned, trying to find the points that would connect him to this theory.

"The envelope, Beth - there was no address. Only "Miss Martin" on the front. He used someone he knows, someone who can sneak into Charles Town to deliver his correspondence to someone else who has access to you. Or do you think he is using our post?"

He scoffed at his own quip but Beth remained silent, staring at her hands.

"Oh, and that he loves you, of course. Let us not forget that," Tavington said loftily. He considered her for several moments. "Do you love him Beth?"

She raised her eyes, met his gaze.

"All that talk of wanting to marry for love. And then I discover you are indeed considering marrying Burwell. So, do you love him?"

"No," she whispered.

_I'm in love with _**_you_**_. _She left the thought unvoiced. He tilted his head to the side, studying her intently.

"Hmm..." He mused as he studied her. "Beth, do you know what I would normally do with a woman who has lied to me as you have, who is receiving enemy missive, who admits she would have concealed them?"

"Please, William -" Her eyes filled with tears but he cut her off ruthlessly.

"It's happened before, you realise? The usual punishment is that their homes are fired - burnt to the ground."

"Oh, no please!" Beth wailed - much like every other rebel woman he had dealt with who faced such punishment. "This is not even my home! Oh, Lord - I'm sorry! I was scared, I'm still scared! What will you do with this information - will you take me hostage? Oh, William..."

She began to weep in earnest but he remained firm, his cold eyes boring into her. Beth covered her mouth with a trembling hand and sobbed convulsively.

"I will not take you hostage Beth," he said finally. He waited for her to understand his words, waited until she calmed somewhat. "For now."

"Then what?" She whispered. "Please don't burn my Uncle's house!"

"Your Uncle's house is safe for now. I do have plans, however."

"What?" She whispered.

"We shall discuss that later. For now, you will fetch me all of Burwell's correspondence. I assume there have been others?"

She nodded wordlessly, too afraid to even think of lying.

"Not since he left Charles Town, though," she said in a quavering voice. "All the other letters - they are old."

"I do not care how old they are. Where are they?"

"In a case - I keep it under my bed. I'll go and get -"

"We shall both go," he said firmly.

Beth swallowed - he could not be in her room! He could not..! But his gaze held hers steadily, implacably. Finally she nodded and rose from the chaise.

"I would not want any of the letters to suffer a mishap along the way," he continued as he followed her from the parlor. "My trust for you is thin right now."

Beth whirled to face him. And it was then that she suddenly remembered Gabriel's letter - the one informing her of Peter Cuppins death. The one describing his conflict over the coming attack on a Loyalist family - a family she knew to be the Simms. Her face drained of colour and she swooned. If Tavington accused her of treason for holding back Burwell's letters - which held no plots or anything regarding the war - what would he say when he discovered Gabriel's?

_Treason..._

Tavington reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, stopping her from falling. As unsympathetic as he was toward her just now, he did not want her dropping to the floor and hurting herself.

As soon as she was steady again, he gave her arm a shove to get her moving.

Her legs trembled as she led the way upstairs to her room.

::::::::


	16. Chapter 16 - Designs

**Chapter 16: Designs**

Tavington did not release his grip on Beth's arm. It started out as an attempt to prevent her falling to the floor if she swooned, but he quickly tightened his grip and was soon marching her up the stairs, through the corridors, all the way to her room. Once there, he gave her another small shove, released her arm and shut the door behind him with a firm 'click'.

Beth turned to him slowly, her face was pale and her hands trembled on her stomach. She still felt as though she might faint. Her fears over what he would do when he discovered Gabriel's letter - with its damning intelligence, made her feel sick to her stomach.

He regarded her coolly with an unreadable expression. The words Burwell had written played through his mind over and over. Jealousy over the enemy Colonel began to reassert itself. Jealousy that Burwell had kissed Beth also.

"Well?" He snapped after a moments silence. He arched an eyebrow, not in the least bit moved by her obvious distress. "The letters!"

"They are here... With all my others..." She dropped to her knees and began to pull a small case out from under her bed.

Tavington moved closer and gazed down at the top of her head - how many times had he imagined her on her knees before him, her mouth moving along his length? He smiled cruelly, his erection gave a twitch - he was angry enough to make her do it to him, right then.

The moment passed. He had not seriously been considering forcing her to pleasure him, it was merely an indication of his anger, that he would imagine it.

Beth rose to her feet and stumbled to her desk with the case. She was far more concerned about Gabriel's letter than any of the ones from Burwell. Her brother's letter had been in her possession for at least a day now, plenty of time to have shown it to Tavington, or another British Officer, if she had desired to.

She tried to calm herself, berated herself for over reacting. She reasoned that she only received the letter the day before. And she had been so distraught over learning of her friends death (which was quite true, after all) that she had not thought to inform William of Burwell's intent to attack a Loyalist family to take hostages. Surely he would be sympathetic toward her.

Then she glanced again at his rock hard face and her anxiety increased. No - he would not be sympathetic. Not with the rest of his discoveries. Besides, she had purposefully held back that her brother was serving in the Continentals, and William had already accused her of lying to him. No, she decided. If he discovered Gabriel's letter, he would not be sympathetic. If anything, it would be the last straw for him. He would act on it, she felt certain.

Why hadn't she burned it, for the Lord's sake! Because it held news of Peter Cuppin's death and it sickened her to treat it with such irreverence.

Her hands shook as she opened the case, she saw Gabriel's letter at once. On top of the others, the last to be stowed away. She wanted to snatch it and throw it into the fire. If Tavington discovered it, at best she would lose her freedom, at worst... She could almost feel the noose tightening around her neck.

Perhaps she could sidle it from view while looking for Burwell's letters. She reached into the case for Gabriel's letter, but before she could lay a finger on it, Tavington was at her side. He leaned around her and dragged the case toward him. Wasting no time, he began his search.

Beth's heart pounded as she watched him pick up Gabriel's letter, her eyes tracking the movement of his hand with horror. She barely stifled a gasp of relief when he placed the damning letter aside on the desk before reaching into the case and snatching up another. The pile of discarded letters grew as he searched. Because Gabriel's letter had been the first in the case, it was now at the bottom of the discarded pile.

Burwell's letters formed a much smaller pile on the other side of the case.

"There were seven, William, written over the last two years," she told him. "You have all of them."

He tightened his lips but otherwise ignored her. He continued his search, his trust for her gone. She was being truthful, however, he had found all of Burwell's letters. Without a another glance her way, he took the letters and sat down stiffly on the edge of her bed to begin reading them.

Beth began to put the discarded correspondence back in the case. To her immense relief, he did not seem to care for them. He did not tell her to stop. Instead, he tore into the first of Burwell's letters, completely ignoring her as she tidied the others away.

Gabriel's damning letter... She picked it up and glanced over her shoulder at Tavington, but he was engrossed in Burwell's letters. His face was dark, stormy, his eyes chips of ice.

Beth's knees felt weak, but he was not paying her any attention for the moment. Holding the letter against her body, she moved away from her desk and walked over to her window. The view held no interest for her, but it allowed her to keep her back to Tavington. With small, careful movements, Beth slid Gabriel's letter into one of her pockets. It was safe there - as safe as could be. No man would ever - EVER violate a woman by putting his hand into her pockets!

She closed her eyes and swayed as relief flooded through her. There were still other letters from Gabriel in the case. But if Tavington discovered them, then at the worst she would be chastised for not informing him she had a Continental for a brother. He would take those letters too, no doubt. But none of them held intelligence - Gabriel never spoke of the war beyond the friends he had lost or being hungry and cold.

If he had discovered the one telling of the imminent attack, however...

No. It was safe now and Beth felt the noose around her neck loosen finally.

:::

Tavington glanced up as Beth walked over to the window. He could feel her fear coming off her, could see her anxiety in the way she stood. Well what did she expect? His lips twitched with irritation and he returned his attention to the letter in his hand.

Love letters, from Colonel Burwell. She claimed to not care for him, yet she had kept them all. Some of them were nearly three years old!

Struggling to keep his rage and jealousy under control, tried to focus on the task at hand. Which was to glean as much information as possible.

Yes, the letters were old, but still useful for all that. Burwell did not go into many details of the war, but what he did write was enough to solve some mysteries, some puzzles. It also gave him an insight into the enemy Colonel that he may never had otherwise. He resolved to show the letters to Bordon, whose keen mind may detect important points that William had missed.

One thing was glaringly obvious to Tavington, now that he had read all of the correspondence. Colonel Burwell was indeed in love with Beth. Finally, after all this time of searching, Tavington had found Burwell's weakness. The question was, was Tavington ruthless enough to exploit it, despite his growing regard for the girl? He had been telling the simple truth earlier, he had become quite enamoured of her. So, could he bring himself to use her?

He scoffed to himself. Damn bloody right he was.

The girl had lied to him from the start! _And_ she admitted she would have held back Burwell's later letters.

"Beth, light a candle," he commanded.

She turned to him, startled. As well she would be - the room was quite bright enough with the sun flooding through the large windows. But he needed to determine just how deeply her betrayal ran, and for that, he needed her to light a candle.

"Pardon?" She asked weakly.

"Light. A. Candle," he repeated.

Very recently, the British had discovered that the Patriots had devised a way to send each other hidden messages, in plain sight. In letters supposedly for their loved ones, the rebels had been writing second messages, using invisible ink made of a solution known only to a small few. Burwell was sure to know of it, sure to use it.

The ingenious ink appeared only when held to a candles flame.

If such a message appeared on the latest letter from Burwell, Tavington would have no choice but to take Beth into custody at once and have her tried as a spy. She seemed surprised by the request - not worried - which gave Tavington a measure of reassurance. Still, he would reserve judgement until he knew for certain.

Beth's hand trembled as she lit a candle. She handed the small sconce to Tavington, who immediately held the letter up to the flame. He waited as the parchment grew warm, careful not to get it too close in case he set it alight. After several moments, it became apparent that there was no hidden, invisible message.

Beth had returned to stand by the window, she gazed at him with a perplexed frown. He did not bother explaining, did not tell her how close she had just come to being arrested.

Still, this proved very little. The fact that there was no invisible message written on the letter - or any of the others that Tavington checked - did not mean that Beth herself was not a spy. It merely gave her a reprieve.

What he needed from her now, was her co-operation. A plan had formed in his mind - had begun forming as soon as he read the letter in the parlor downstairs. He needed Beth's compliance, however.

Yes, Tavington thought as he bundled Burwell's letters and put them in his pocket, the rebel Colonel was in love with her, he will come for her. Now to ensure Beth was willing to play her part - Tavington could not execute his plan without her.

"You're keeping them?" Beth asked over her shoulder, nodding pointedly at the bulge in his pocket.

"I do hope that is not a problem, Miss Martin," he asked her dangerously.

"Of course not, I... They're just old... There can be nothing in them of value, surely?"

He gazed at her coolly from the bed. "I dare say they are worth your weight in gold, Miss Martin."

Ignoring her surprise, he stood abruptly and opened the case again, rifling through once more.

"What are you doing? You have the ones from Burwell."

He ignored her. Siphoning through the case, he checked over each salutation. Most of them were from other women, Margaret Martin, Anne Howard, Laura Cuppin. There were a few from other men, William began to question her about them.

"Who Benjamin Martin?"

"My father," she replied.

Tavington nodded and picked up another.

"Thomas Martin? Gabriel Martin?"

"My brothers." She said flatly.

William knew he was being overbearing, obviously anyone bearing the name 'Martin' would be a member of her family. Clearly there were no more letters from men outside of Beth's family and he abandoned that line of questioning.

"Very well," he sniffed and tossed the letters back into the case before turning to her. He continued in an officious tone. "Do you, or have you, received correspondence from any other Continental Officers?"

"No," Beth lied as carefully as she could.

"I am expected to believe that Colonel Burwell is the only Continental with a connection to you?" He raised his eyebrows in polite disbelief. "You, a Patriot woman who has grown up on the Santee, know no others?"

"I know plenty - boys I grew up with and attended church with," Beth explained. She tried for nonchalance as she continued to lie. "But none of them write to me - I have no understanding with them - no connection to them."

"Hmm," he mused over her words.

The truth was, he could go out onto the street and throw a damned stone and hit a person who had grown up with someone serving in the Patriot army. That alone was not enough to suspect a person - not when each street in Charles Town bore an equal number of Patriots, Loyalists and Pacifists.

Still, Beth was far from guilt free.

For a brief moment, Tavington considered taking the case with him to the Assembly Hall regardless of what she told him. Letters from Benjamin Martin - close friend of Colonel Harry Burwell - there could be all sorts of intelligence in these correspondence that Beth had no concept of.

"We are done here, Sir," Beth said, distracting him from his thoughts. "You have what you came up here for and it is not proper that we remain alone in my bedchamber for any longer. Shall we?"

She turned and began crossing the room toward the door.

Sudden fury flared over his face, that she could think she would simply walk away from this now. He threw the letters down on the desk and reached out to grab her by the arm.

"We are not finished, Miss Martin!" He yanked her around her to face him.

"Sir!" Her hair whirled around her. She frowned angrily, no doubt about to give him a tongue lashing. But his face blazed above hers, she snapped her mouth shut and gulped.

"We have not finished," he repeated frostily, looming. "There is still the matter of your involvement with Burwell to discuss."

"Can't we discuss it downstairs?" Her voice quavered.

"I think not," he stated, before listing her transgressions. "You have lied to me from the start and earlier you admitted you would never have told me that Burwell, an enemy to the Crown, was writing to you."

Beth lowered her eyes and began to fidget her fingers, twirling them through her skirts. Holding her silence, she waited tensely to discover what his objective was, what he had in store for her. Clearly, he was not finished.

"I can not ignore your guilt here - as I already told you, I've burnt the homes of Patriots with less provocation than this," his gaze held hers, watching as her face worked. "If you wish to avoid such chastisement, you must co-operate and in doing so, prove yourself Loyal."

Beth drew in a sharp breath - she was not Loyal, she was a Patriot! Though she was too frightened to even consider defying him.

"I have a task for you," he continued.

"A task?" She asked softly. "What would you have me do?"

"Burwell has stated in his letter that he would risk coming into Charles Town to meet with you," he explained without releasing his hold on her arms. "I can not believe he would be so foolish - not for such a frivolous reason as your company. If he believes you are in _danger_, however..."

Beth frowned up into his pale gaze, a strong sense of foreboding built steadily in her stomach. William pulled Burwell's latest letter out of his pocked and began to read aloud the portions that were most relevant just now.

" _'I allowed my fear to get the better of me',_ " he studied her face carefully for any sign of reaction. Any hint that he was on the right path. "Obviously Colonel Burwell shares your concerns that we might take you hostage. It is the reason he proposed to you that day, isn't it?"

Beth nodded. "He was hoping I would come away with him, but I was worried. For my virtue. And I didn't want to act so hastily."

"Hmm," he nodded curtly and continued to read.

"_Never doubt how deeply I love you, how ardently I desire you to be my wife._ _I long to gaze upon your beautiful face, to hold you in my arms again. If only I could steal into Charles Town, for a day, even an hour. I lose all my good sense when it comes to you, I think I would be foolish enough to attempt it if only to kiss you again.' " _

Her eyes grew wider with every word. Her lips parted and her cheeks reddened. Beth's heart began to pound. William shoved the letter back into his pocket.

"Now, as I said - I doubt he _would_ be foolish enough to risk it all just to spend a mere hour with you," he explained now. "That he is in love with you, I have no doubt. But he would still need greater motivation. I believe he _will_ come for you if he believes you are in danger."

"Am I in danger?" She breathed. Tavington ignored her.

"I haven't decided yet," he said frankly, then continued sternly, "it depends entirely on your willingness to co-operate. You have put yourself into this position, you have only yourself to blame."

"What would you have me do?" She asked again, the not knowing was killing her, making her stomach writhe with nerves.

"You will write to Burwell, you will tell him you have run afoul of me and that you need him to come for you."

"Oh, no..." She shook her head and shuddered. "Please, Sir -" taking a step closer to him, her brown eyes pleaded and she placed her hand on his chest - an imploring getures. "Please -"

"Sir?" Tavington repeated in a mocking tone. He leaned down and nuzzled his lips against her ear. After reading all of Burwell's correspondence earlier, William had felt his own claim on the girl slip. His fingers curled around her forearms, his grip iron, as he traced possessive kisses along her neck and shoulder.

Beth did not struggle against him, though it confused her. She couldn't understand how he could ask her - no _command_ her - to do such a heinous thing. To frighten her, to threaten her. And yet still kiss her like a lover... She swallowed and held still, stiff and frozen to the spot.

"What happened to _William_?" He whispered against her skin between kisses. "You said it so warmly before..."

"Well maybe, if you weren't so frightening right now, I would say it warmly again!" She gasped, near to tears. Her fingers clutched his Redcoat for support, her knees felt weak with fear. "Please, don't as me to do this! I'm begging you -"

He was offering her a way out of her predicament and she had the audacity to beg him on Burwell's behalf! Rage surged through him, making him lash out violently. He shook her hard enough to make her teeth rattle and snarled down into her face.

"Three years he has been writing to you! Love letters, every single one and _you have kept them all! _If that is not a sign of your regard for him, I do not know what is! You said you did not care for him!"

He shook her again, he could not help himself. Beth began to cry, she had never been treated so ungently before and it terrified her. Her head was spinning, lighted headed after being shaken so roughly.

"You beg me on his behalf?" his voice a low, menacing hiss, "You would _protect_ him!"

She lowered her tearful eyes and sobbed quietly. Striving for calm, he continued in a milder tone.

"This is war Beth, pure and simple. As I have stated, if you wish to avoid such chastisement, you must co-operate, you must prove yourself Loyal."

"By betraying a _friend_?" She challenged, finally finding her voice again. "You stretch my loyalties to breaking point -"

With snakelike swiftness, Tavington seized her chin with one hand, jerking her head back, cutting off her words. "I am in no mood to play, Beth. You will do exactly as you are told, or I will take you to the cells this very moment."

"On what charge?" She whispered in a quavering voice. Tavington smiled again, loosening his grip.

"Rebellion against the Crown."

Beth's knees sagged. He tightened his grip on her arm, keeping her from falling to the floor. There was only one punishment for such a charge, if one was found guilty. Even women were hung for treason.

"Now, now," he said compellingly. "I do not believe you're a traitor, Beth, though you have behaved in a traitorous manner. You made the wrong choice in holding back these letters - you must choose more wisely now."

Beth panted heavily, her knees still weak. Tavington drew her closer, held her against his chest. As she began to cry into his Redcoat, he stared over her head and rubbed her back soothingly.

"I just have to write a letter?" She whispered finally.

A small smile quirked his lips. She had chosen the right path, as he had suspected she would. William knew that her 'treason' was not so great for to face the gallows but her fear taken a hold of her and he had no qualms in using it to direct her.

"Yes, for now," he assured her. Of course, her involvement would not end there but she was not quite ready to be told the rest of his plan just yet. "You will write a letter of summons to Burwell. Though you will also need to discover who delivered Burwell's letter in the first place - you are the only person who can do so. Where there is one spy, there will be more and I want them in custody for questioning." He caressed her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers, but his voice was ice. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You will begin by questioning your Butler. Someone approached with him that letter, I would know who. But for now - the letter. I will take it with me when I leave."

Beth swayed and closed her eyes.

"And if he doesn't come?" She asked hesitantly.

"Oh, I have no doubt that he will, especially if you word it in just the right way. When he arrives, he will be taken into custody," he said simply.

"Oh, sweet Lord," she breathed. Lord, a letter in her handwriting, summoning Burwell to his own capture. Oh, sweet Lord... "You want me to write it now?"

"No time like the present. We do not know how long he will be close to Charles Town for. Sit down." He still held her arm as she stumbled to her chair, she sat heavily at her desk. With shaking hands she pulled forth some parchment and readied a quill.

As she was dipping her quill in the ink pot, Tavington placed his strong, warm hand over her trembling one.

"Beth," he said gently from above her. "Calm yourself. You are near to panic and he will not be able to understand a word you write. Calmly, now."

As he waited for her to gather herself, he dragged a second chair over and placed it alongside the desk so he could sit facing her.

"What do I write?" She asked in a wooden voice when she had her parchment, ink and quill ready.

"It will need to be in your own words, Beth. I will not dictate it. You will need to get these main points across. One: You fear his feelings for you have put you in danger. Two: You do not know who to trust, therefore he must come for you personally."

"Which will stop him from sending a subordinate for me?"

"Precisely. Three: If he comes to you in person, you promise that you accept his marriage proposal and the wedding will take place at the earliest opportunity."

"William! How cruel!" She closed her eyes and barely stifled a groan of despair. "Oh, dear God."

"God will not help you now, Beth. Only I can," he said bluntly. "All the extra details will make it more believable. Fourth and last: You will stipulate the time, date and place for him to come and meet you - Sunday, seven o'clock, in the Square."

A look of horror grew on her very pale face.

"Oh, my dear Lord - you are setting up an actual tryst and you want me to be there!" She accused him.

"Of course it will be necessary for you to be there," he shrugged - he had intended it all along. How else could Tavington bring Burwell out of hiding?

Beth planted her elbows on the desk, lowered her head to her hands, and groaned.

Tavington was not finished, however.

"When Burwell reaches Charles Town, he will lay low - probably in a safe house. After dark, when it is less likely that he could be seen and recognised, he will venture out to the meeting point. He will need to see you, Beth, ready and waiting for him, before he reveals himself."

"And when he does, you will take him?" She whispered. "What will you do to him, William?"

"Worry for yourself," he snapped. "Or do you forget - it is not so far fetched that I might take _you_ into custody right now!"

She lowered her eyes from him and shivered.

"Begin!" He commanded harshly and Beth began to scribble across the parchment. After several attempts, and with additions made by William, she finally produced a letter that he approved of.

::

_Sir,_

_I received your letter this morning, thank you for sending it and allaying my fears for you. I have been quite worried and have so far received no news of you._

_I wish I could tell you that I am well, but though I am so far unharmed, I am far from fine._

_It is as you feared all those weeks ago, when you came to me and asked that I leave with you. I have run afoul of Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington, who has discovered your true feelings for me. Indeed I regret wholeheartedly, my decision to remain in Charles Town. I should have run away with you when you gave me the opportunity._

_Harry, I need to leave Charles Town for I fear Tavington greatly. I fear that I will indeed be made hostage - he has intimated as much. He is having me watched and I do not know who I can turn to, for there are too many Loyalists and most Patriots in Charles Town are hiding their allegiance. I fear if I approached anyone I knew to be a Patriot before, they would just as likely hand me over to Tavington._

_I beg of you, please, to come for me in person. It would terrify me, to be approached by one of your men, for I would fear he would be leading me to Tavington, rather than out of Charles Town to you. I was wrong in not accepting your proposal, but I vow that if you do rescue me yourself, I will marry you at the earliest opportunity. _

_If you can come for me earlier, please inform me immediately. Otherwise, I will be waiting for you in the Square at 7pm on this coming Sunday evening. _

_I endeavor to be,_

_Your faithful bride,_

_Miss Beth Martin._

::

Tavington stared at the letter after reading it. Jealousy twisted his stomach, making him surly. He glanced up at her with pure fury and she leaned back from him, her expression perplexed.

"Did you mean it?" His voice was terrible, he saw her tremble but he was too far gone to care about her distress. He was being completely unreasonable, much of the content in letter was of his design. Still, he had never told her to tell Burwell that she regretted not running away with him!

"Mean what?" She asked carefully.

"That you regret remaining in Charles Town," fury clipped his words. "That you wish you had gone with him when you had the opportunity?"

"No, of course not. I was just -" She cut off suddenly with a whimper, his face blazing over hers frightening her to silence.

"I think you are lying, Beth," His gentle fingers stroking her face belied the violence in his tone. "I think you regret ever meeting me, I think you wish Burwell _would_ rescue you from me."

"No," she shook her head, breathing heavily, her voice pleaded. "No, that is not true. William, you know how I feel about you."

" '_I endeavor to be your faithful bride?_' " he spat. "Mine, Beth. You are _mine_ - not his!"

This assertion surprised even William, but he did not retract it, deciding it was true enough. He did see her as his - not Banastre's, not that ridiculous Private Watson's and certainly not Burwell's. She belonged to him.

With wide and wary eyes, she swallowed and quickly nodded agreement.

"Say it!" He demanded harshly, needing to hear the words from her lips after reading her words to Burwell.

"I am yours."

A mere whisper, but it was enough. He leaned back in the chair and considered her for several moments.

"How do you feel about him?" William asked now. "The truth this time."

"I... I care for him," she began. His face darkened and she rushed on nervously. "As a friend, we've known one another a long time."

"A friend..?" He leaned in closer with a slight smirk of disbelief. "And do you miss him, your rebel Colonel?"

"I do not think of him all that often," Beth demurred.

He drummed his fingers on the table and Beth quailed under his scrutiny.

"And yet you did not allow him to leave Charles Town without hope that you would some day be wed. Would you leave me and marry him, if you were reunited?"

"You have no cause for all this jealousy William!" Beth cried. "I have to marry one day and I've already told you I will not be your mistress! Are _you_ proposing to me?" She leaned in close, staring intently.

He tightened his lips, his face again a mask of stone.

"No, I didn't think so," she said bitterly and pushed away from the desk to resume her vigil at the window. "What would any sane girl do in my position? Reject a marriage to a man of Burwell's standing - not to mention _wealth_ - in favor of being your mistress, until your head is turned by another?"

Fury flared within him, he rose quickly and crossed the distance between them. "Who says my head would be turned by another, do you think me so inconstant?"

Beth parted her lips, his question startling her to silence. She had assumed he would be, it never occurred to her that he could be faithful to her... In the end she could only shrug. "I do not know you well enough to judge."

He eased his expression, it was true after all - they had only known one another a few short days. Beth continued speaking in a quiet voice.

"Besides, it matters not, if I would accept a proposal from him. After this, no match between Burwell and I will ever be possible. He will never forgive my betrayal."

"Betrayal?" Tavington asked dangerously in a hard voice.

"As _he_ would see it. He will not wish to marry me now, I assure you. I am deliberately leading him into a trap that will see him caught or... Or..." Beth faltered and she turned to face him. "William, he won't... You won't..."

"Kill him?"

She swallowed hard, he heard the gulp. Feeling pity for her, he forced warmth into his voice, preparing to lie through his teeth.

"Darling, nothing you do will cause harm to Colonel Burwell. He will be a prisoner, but a pampered one - like Edward Rutledge. He will be released at the end of the war."

She nodded, clearly relieved. "William, do I really have to be there? On the night - at the tryst..?"

"Of course you have to be, he will come to you -" Tavington stifled his jealousy, shoved it down, stomped on it - it had no place now - there was only duty. "You might even need to speak to him. Don't fear, I will get you away, safe and sound."

Beth was shaking, her breathing hard, fearful. "William... Please don't make me do this, I'm so scared."

Demand she do her duty on pain of punishment?

Or console her, chase away her fears? Tavington chose the latter. She had known Burwell too long to be expected to betray him without more assurances that the rebel Colonel would not be hurt.

He took both her hands in his.

"Everything will be fine, darling," he said as earnestly as he could. The fact was, Burwell would probably hang the day after he was caught.

"Come, sweet Beth," he led her to the bed, sat down on the edge and pulled her onto his lap. "Everything will be fine," he repeated in a murmur, already moving his lips across hers. It felt so good to have her in his arms again after the tension and strife of the last hour. She was his again.

"This needs to be done, many lives will be saved." More kisses, she began to melt against him though he could sense she was still tense, still fearful. "Service to the Crown... Will be rewarded..."

No, she cares nothing for rewards, he changed his tact, moving his lips to her neck.

"You have shown your loyalty to me and to the Crown." More kisses. "You have my gratitude. This war could be over quickly, with Burwell safely in hand." Back to her lips, she sighed and relaxed against him and he smiled to himself. She was his, she would do what was required of her.

"Just think of it, the war over, everyone can go about their lives... No more farms destroyed, no more lives lost. You'll be doing a great service, my darling. To me, to the Crown, and to your country."

He laid her down on the bed and covered her with his body, kissing her into submission. His hands drifted along her body and through her unbound hair.

"You're so beautiful Beth," he murmured as he gazed down at her.

"So you've said," her voice was quiet, she brushed her fingers lightly over his face. "And you're the most handsome man I've ever known."

He smiled brightly. She was not finished, however. "But you're also the most deadly... Dangerous. I will never be safe with you. I fear you will get me killed in the end, or flogged. You will prove my undoing, William."

"Silly Beth," he kissed her forehead, then took hold of her hand, kissing the tip of each finger in turn. She sighed as his lips moved to her palm, to her wrist. "As if I would do anything that would cause you harm. As if I would not protect you, come what may."

"Do you swear it? You'll protect me, come what may? Vow it, William." She seized on the idea and her tone became demanding.

Tavington could not see the harm in it, he made the required vow.

"My darling, on my honor I vow to protect you, come what may."

He knew he had said the right thing, for she finally relaxed in his arms and when he began kissing her slowly and deeply, she wrapped her arms around his neck with a sigh, the horrors of the morning seemingly forgotten.


	17. Chapter 17 - In the Enemies Lap

**Chapter 17 - In the Enemies Lap**

Beth knelt before her little hearth and placed another of Gabriel's letters into the flames, watching it blacken and shrivel until only ash was left.

Tavington's vow did very little to allay her concerns. For two hours he had lain with her on her bed, kissing. The Officer had seemed content with that, with the slow kissing and he had not tried to take it any further. Beth had to admit it was very agreeable, though she was unable to set her fears aside entirely. She could not chase away her feeling of urgency and was desperate to speak with her Uncle - who she knew had always been a friend to Burwell. If she could trust anyone, it was Mark Putman.

Burwell would need to be warned - she had decided that almost as soon as she had begun writing her letter, summoning him to 'rescue' her.

Her thoughts continued to linger on the last two hours as she placed another letter on the fire.

William had drawn away from her eventually, with a heavy sigh. Though he wished to remain at her side, he had business at the Assembly Hall and could put it off no longer. They walked through the house together, she saw him to the front door where he kissed her a final time. He cupped her face with both his hands and stared at her intently with his piercing pale gaze.

"I do not have to tell you how important you are in my plans to capture Burwell, do I?" He had asked sternly.

"No, of course not," she frowned, uncertain of his meaning.

"Beth, this is to remain in the strictest of confidence."

Ah, _now_ she understood.

"Of course, I won't tell a soul," she lied, having already decided to tell Mark as soon as he came home.

He held her gaze for several heartbeats before leaning in closer, his expression menacing. "I am putting my trust in you, Beth. Do not fail me."

"I won't," her voice had been breathless, she heard the threat in his words.

After closing the door behind him, she had raced to her room to begin burning Gabriel's letters - _all_ of them on her small hearth.

Now, with the last one burned, she moved on to her father's letters. She had noticed William eyeing them with interest, though she could not be certain why. Skimming through one of them she found there was nothing regarding the war, the letter was mostly benign. She continued skimming, and there at the bottom of the parchment her father had written of news of Gabriel, her Continental soldier brother and their friend Peter Cuppin. That letter went on the fire, along with a few others from her father.

Not that she expected William to return and demand she hand over the case. Nevertheless she had learned her lesson - it was better to be safe than sorry. Voices came from downstairs, her Uncle had returned - she could heart Aunt Charlotte's voice also. With a quiet squeal of relief, Beth jumped up and grabbed up a screwed parchment - it had taken her a few tries at writing Burwell's letter before Tavington had been entirely happy with it. She decided to show the letter to her Uncle and explain what had taken place. She rushed downstairs and was puffing when she reached the parlor.

"My word!" Charlotte exclaimed with a teasing laugh, as the younger woman burst in. "Beth! Four years you have been under my tutelage and I distinctly remember teaching you that ladies do not run in the house!"

After quickly kissing Charlotte on the cheek, she rounded on her Uncle.

"Where have you _been_?" She almost shrieked.

"Uh-oh... What's happened..?"

All of her anxiety of the morning welled inside her. It all poured out of her in a rush.

William's discovery that Harry was in love with her, her intention to marry him, that he demanded to read all of Burwell's other correspondence before forcing her to write a letter, summoning Burwell to come and rescue her. She also told them of William's desire to question Marcus, their Butler, in an attempt to begin uncovering spies.

:::::::::::::::::::

"I am not certain how he will get the letter to Harry," Beth finished finally. She had been as honest as she could, but had deliberately left out that she and William had laid on her bed for two hours, kissing.

The family was sitting on chairs and chaises in the parlor, listening quietly as Beth relayed the events of the morning.

"But I fear Harry will come, if he thinks I'm in danger. Especially if he believes I'll marry him on the spot!" She blew out an angry breath. Charlotte, Mage and Mark all exchanged fearful glances. "The ridiculous thing is, I had decided this morning that I would marry Harry. I was going to write to him - I just needed to have a nap first because I did not get much sleep last night and was tired."

"You will marry Burwell?" Mark's deep voice rumbled, he sounded surprised. Beth's growing regard for William had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the family, and it had been the cause of increasing concern among them. He and Mage had spent much of the morning discussing it with Charlotte over tea in her manor. They had asked her to accompany them back home for the sole purpose of 'talking sense into the girl'. It was a pleasant surprise to Mark, to hear that his niece would behave responsibly.

"Yes, I will. But first things first - I must warn him about this... this... plot - this _trap_! Uncle - do you have any ideas? How can I get a letter to Harry? It didn't occur to me wonder, earlier... But now - its imperative that he gets the letter before he receives the one that Tavington took away with him."

"I think I can help you there," Mark said carefully. The only person who knew of his continuing work for Burwell was Mage - his wife. He was a spy, for want of a better word, and it was imperative the secret stay close.

"Oh... Thats... wonderful..." Beth almost choked with relief. "Just wonderful."

"If only we had left Charles Town sooner - if only Aunt Prudence had not taken ill!" Charlotte bemoaned.

"It could not be helped, dear heart," Mage reassured her. "Still, it might be prudent to get Beth away a little earlier than you intended, Charlotte. You calculated two weeks or so until your departure? Can this be bought forward?"

"Perhaps," Charlotte said. "What am I saying - of course it can be! We could leave on the morrow if it came to it -"

"That won't be necessary," Mark stepped in quickly in case the women began making rash decisions without thinking of the consequences. "I do not believe it would be wise for Beth to flee Charles Town. Not now that Tavington has assigned her a task and he expects her to follow it to the end. If she takes flight now he could accuse her of willful treason to the Crown and would have every right to chase her down."

The women fell silent and Beth swallowed, hard.

"A letter must be sent to Harry, on the hour," he stated firmly. "And yes, you should bring your departure forward, but Beth must be seen to have performed her assignment to its fullest before she leaves, so that she appears guilt free."

"Then that means," Beth reasoned with a frown, "that I will have to go along with Tavington for the next few days -"

"Until Sunday evening, to be sure," Mark finished in a stern tone. "You will even be required to attend this tryst, to allay any suspicions."

Beth hung her head. It made her nervous, just thinking about it, even though she knew now that Burwell would be warned in time and it would not cause him any harm.

"What if... Afterward - when Harry doesn't show up..." She ventured hesitantly. "What if I am accused of warning Harry then? Tavington is not stupid... He might take me hostage right away!"

"Only if he has cause to," Mark replied. He began to consider what would happen after the meeting took place. "Depending on how good an actress you are, Beth, we could work this in our favor."

"How?" She frowned. Her Aunts seemed just as perplexed.

"Well, if you are as genuinely surprised that Burwell has not come for you; and hurt perhaps that Burwell ignored your summons to rescue you, then Tavington might reconsider how important you are to Harry."

"Oh, of course!" Mage said excitedly. "Tavington would think you'd make a fairly useless hostage in future, if Burwell didn't come to rescue you!"

"Its all down to your behavior on the night," Charlotte advised. "You must show no guilt, nothing to give away your involvement. And no relief when Burwell doesn't come. You must behave as you if you expect Burwell to show himself."

"Then I would need to be... Anxious?" Beth asked. She continued fervently. "That will be easy enough, I assure you!"

"We shall discuss this in depth over the next few days," Mark said now. "We will all have a serious think about what will work, so Tavington will have no cause to question your innocence on the night. But for now, you must write your new letter to Harry."

It took some time with Beth deliberating over her words carefully. She was accepting his proposal after all and wished to provide a proper explanation. It was important to her that Harry understood Beth had decided to marry him BEFORE Tavington discovered Harry's letter and included her in his plans to capture the Continental Colonel.

"There," she said finally as she handed the folded parchment to Mark. "I am now officially engaged."

Charlotte lost her composure. With a quiet squeal she rushed to Beth's side, her arms around her niece hugging her tight.

"How wonderful! Oh, Beth - I am so pleased. Burwell loves you well and will make an excellent husband. _And_ he is wealthy - you will want for nothing. Dear heart! I am so pleased!"

Beth returned her Aunt's embrace with a smile of her own.

"I quite agree. A good match indeed, Beth. Very good," Mark nodded sagely.

"But as you say, it must be kept strictly to the family," Mage said prudently.

Eventually the family dispersed, Mark needed to send words out to the Patriot spies to be on the alert. Now they were certain that Tavington knew of their existence and was trying to discover them, Mark felt certain that some of his spies would want their families removed from Charles Town.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Colonel Burwell glanced up from where he sat at the council table, when Mrs. Jenkins entered. A young widow, she had remained in the Continentals employ after her husband had died in battle several months ago. The two exchanged a smile and she went about her work, replenishing the Colonel with fresh candles, both knowing she would most likely be sharing his cot that night.

Burwell watched her for a moment - a pretty little thing she was, a young mother in need of the security of the Continental force. The Colonel didn't begrudge her continuing presence in the camp after her soldier husband's demise. She worked hard, helping with the wounded in the medical tents. She also helped with the sewing, mending, cleaning, even cooking. There were not enough women in camp as it was and the Lord knew they were needed to perform these functions. And of course she _was_ sharing his bed...

He turned back to his own task, reading reports regarding various aspects of the camp. So far he had managed to evade British detection. Which was a major undertaking, positioned close as he was to their forces. Close to Lake Moultrie, between British occupied Moncks Corner and St Stephen.

That they continued to remain in concealment was paramount. He had managed to seed Cornwallis and Clinton with false reports regarding his position, the British Commanders believed he was miles away - close to the North Carolina border, where General Gates was purportedly positioned.

In point of fact Gates himself was moving in closer, as were several other of his forces. The Continental General had managed to conceal himself near to Kershaw on the far side of Camden. There were forces near to the Great Falls, Hartsville, and Darlington, all in concealment, all only less than a days hard march from Camden.

Their objective - to reclaim Camden from the British. If the Continentals seized the township, the war could swing wildly in their favor. Its positioning was perfect, close to Charles Town and other key townships. Gates would not wait much longer before he moved against Camden - though Burwell suspected he was waiting for Clinton to leave for New York.

With Clinton leaving - a large force of the British would leave with him. Cornwallis would be on his own - though his force was still large enough to not be taken lightly. And Banastre Tarleton was reportedly returning to the Santee - Burwell certainly took that Commander seriously, despite Tarleton's youth.

Harry glanced up again when the tent flap lifted and another person entered. Corporal Gabriel Martin saluted.

"As you were," Harry commanded and Gabriel relaxed. "Its late to be receiving missives," the Colonel continued, nodding at the missive in Gabriel's hand.

"Sir," Gabriel said, passing the letter over. "Its from Beth. Sorry - but I recognise her writing. I did not read it."

"No, thats fine," Burwell replied. "That was quick - she would have only received my letter yesterday."

As Harry tore into the letter, Gabriel said, "do you mind if I stay, Sir? Just to made sure she's fine - I've been worried."

"As have I. And yes, you may stay."

"The courier rode his horses near to death," Gabriel explained anxiously. "He said he left just before lunch and he had instructions to ride hard and fast, resting the horses only as necessary. He is getting a feed in the mess now."

"Indeed?" Burwell's eyes were wide when he met Gabriel's gaze. "Your Uncle has placed some urgency on this letter, it seems. Mrs. Jenkins - will you excuse us?"

"Of course, Sir." When the widow left the tent, Burwell began to read to himself.

::

_Dearest Harry,_

_Lord, I'm in such a panic, I barely know where to start!_

::

"Christ!" Sudden fear washed through him, startling him into cursing aloud.

"What is it?" Gabriel leaned forward worriedly.

Burwell waved him off, he had only read the first line of the letter, he did not know what was wrong yet.

"Wait, lad," he said. "I haven't read far enough, but somethings happened to spook her."

He resumed his seat and began to read. As he did so, Gabriel sat across from him, staring silently.

::

_Dearest Harry,_

_Lord, I'm in such a panic, I barely know where to start! _

_Firstly, I am well and unharmed, but there is so much to tell you. _

_Very soon - if you have not already - you will receive a letter written by my hand, begging you to come to Charles Town. I have stated in the letter that I have run afoul of Lieutenant Colonel Tavington and I need you to come in person to rescue me. While it is true that I have run afoul of Tavington, the letter itself is a fake - a lure to a trap. _

_Ignore the letter - I beg of you. Do not do as I have instructed - I am safe enough, I assure you. Uncle Mark is going to work hard with Aunt Charlotte to have our departure bought forward. We would have left two weeks ago but my Great Aunt Prudence fell ill and as you know, she has no one to care for her. Aunt Charlotte only just returned from Aunt Prudence's sick bed yesterday. However, the departure is underway, we will leave this time next week we hope._

_Please do not think ill of me, for writing the fake letter. I had no choice - if I refused I fear Tavington would have taken me into custody. You see, I originally told him that you and I do not care for each other. This conversation came about because of Claire bloody Mason - she told Tavington that you proposed to me. I suppose I can't be too hard on her, he probably would have made the discovery anyway._

_And so I told Tavington that I refused you and it was to be an arranged marriage anyway, though it pained me to say it. I felt wretched for our marriage would be so much more than that. But I know that you will understand. I hope you will, anyway... I'm sorry, I'm all over the place, aren't I? Anyway, I made it seem that I refused you outright and that you left Charles Town believing our courtship had come to an end and that there was to be no future between us. And I made it clear that you did not care either way. _

_But Tavington discovered all of this to be a lie, unfortunately. He now knows that you are in love with me, and that in all probability we would indeed eventually marry. As soon as he made this discovery - that I lied and withheld your letters from him, he told me I could face charges of treason, unless I co-operated with him. Hence the letter that you will receive soon if it is not already in your possession. _

_And so the plan is, as you will discover, that you are to come to Charles Town (he worked out that you are nearby though I still don't entirely understand how he came to that conclusion.) on this Sunday evening. You are to meet me in the Square at 7pm. You are to come in person for I do not know who to trust, and I fear leaving with one of your subordinates in case I can not trust him. All rubbish of course - all you would have had to do was send Gabriel in and I would have left willingly, but Tavington does not know I have a brother serving in the army. _

_He was certain you would come in person if I gave you the right encouragement. He forced me to tell you that if you came in person that I would accept your marriage proposal and we would be married as soon as possible, in camp._

_Dear heart - do not let it pain you for I do indeed intend to marry you as soon as we can perform the ceremony. I have accepted your proposal and we are now, officially engaged, unless you have changed your mind of course! Our engagement is to be kept secret - only our families may know of it. But rest assured, I do intend for us to wed - I have informed my Uncle and both my Aunts. I am resolved - and I would have this settled between us. Please know that I came to this decision before all this strife with Tavington. Directly after reading your letter, in fact, before Tavington made the discoveries he made, before he forced me to write that horrid letter. Its important to me that you understand that, Harry._

_I know you must have many questions for me, I would try and anticipate them now but Uncle Mark is hurrying me to finish. He wants this letter away on the hour, he wants you to receive it before my other one arrives. He tells me to remind you that any courier bearing the other, false, letter is a spy. He says you will need to move camp or detain him, or have someone intercept him now you are aware he is coming. He says that obviously, some people we believe are Patriots are actually Loyalist spies. _

_But I am certain you already know all of this. Did you know that the five thousand Continentals that were taken at the fall of Charles Town were shoved in the holds of British ships and that many of those men are changing allegiance for their freedom and a hot meal? Its disgusting, truly!_

_Please do not worry for me, do not fear. Uncle Mark is confident that as long as we play along with Tavington for now, all will be well. This does mean I will be expected to go to the Square on Sunday evening and behave as though I am waiting for you. But Uncle Mark says that if I flee before then, Tavington will know I am a traitor - as he would see it - and would hunt me down. I fear my father would be in danger - my brothers and sisters... They are alone out there on the plantation. So I will play along as best I can and I promise you, if you show up on Sunday evening I will drub you myself - Colonel or not! Perhaps you can write a letter back - through Tavington's courier - intimating that you will attend Sunday evening? If he believes you are coming, he may not suspect me when you do not show up. _

_Uncle Mark has his hand out now - I must close this letter._

_Again - do not fear for me, do not come on Sunday, do not feel heartsore when you read the other letter, for I do intend to marry you and I decided that before all of this happened._

_Your fiancé,_

_Beth Martin._

_Post script - please excuse me terrible writing - especially now at the end._

_:::_

"Christ almighty," Burwell muttered. He wiped his hand across his brow and ran his fingers over his hair. Then, because Gabriel had been watching with increasing anxiety, he handed the letter over to his Corporal to read.

"Christ almighty," Gabriel agreed when he was finished.

As worried as he was for Beth, Harry was a man of duty and he sensed an opportunity to turn the tables on Tavington.

"The first order of business," he said now, "is to intercept this courier. I do not want him to know where our camp is concealed. If we stop him enroute, I can seed him false information, tell him the force is deep in North Carolina, that we had a mission to carry out but are heading back to join Gates."

"If we can get hold of the courier, we can seed Tavington all sorts of false information." Gabriel nodded.

"Second, I need to get Beth out of there," Burwell stated firmly.

"Sir," Gabriel hesitated. "You read the letter, Uncle Mark advises against such a move. The repercussions could be dire."

Burwell tapped his fingers against the tabletop idly. He knew it was true, he could cause Beth and her families more problems - even if he got Benjamin away in time, Fresh Water could be burnt to the ground in retaliation.

"Its better that Beth come away with a clean slate," Gabriel continued. "I understand your concerns, Sir. But I would err on the side of caution."

"Yes, yes," Burwell tightened his lips. "I know. Just the thought of her being there - in his clutches! Its my worst nightmare! How the Devil did this come about?"

"Questions to pose to Beth when next we see her. Judging by her scrawl," Gabriel picked up the letter and studied her writing. "She really was in too much of a hurry to go into a lot of details. Her hand is much neater to this, usually."

"Yes, it is," Harry nodded. "Very well, we must go by the information we have to hand for now. Perhaps I will receive a fuller explanation from Mark or from Beth tomorrow. In the mean time, we must ride out - now."

"Now?" Gabriel asked, startled.

"Not a moment to lose, its a race now. Mark's, courier reached us first - but he knew exactly where we were, therefore he knew which routes to take. Tavington's Loyalist spy will need to ask questions and wheedle his way here. Still, he could be under the same instructions, to reach me with all possible haste. I will send two other units out, each to take other routes. We must do what we can to head this spy off at the pass or we'll have to move camp completely."

"Not a pleasant undertaking, Sir."

"Corporal, summon Marion would you?" When Gabriel's eyes shot up in surprise, Burwell explained. "I want Marion in place near to Charles Town. When they finally leave, your Aunt will be traveling the roads alone - with _my_ fiancé. If she has indeed run afoul of Tavington, then I want Marion in place to help her get out of the township."

"Ah, of course," Gabriel said appreciatively. Burwell left no stone unturned - he thought of everything! The Corporal rose to summon Marion. When he reached the tent flap he turned back to Burwell. "Sir, congratulations of your coming wedding. I hope my sister does not plague you too greatly."

Burwell laughed, a release of tension.

"Thank you, Corporal. I will endeavour to do my best to deserve your sister," he said warmly.

"I can think of none more deserving," Gabriel said gruffly. He nodded once, then left the tent.

Burwell sat back in his chair, his emotions rioting inside him. Fear for Beth, fury at Tavington, anger at himself for not insisting she leave with him. Above all, however, was intense pleasure, that Beth was to finally become his wife. They were officially, if secretly, engaged.

::

Colonel Burwell conferred with his Officers and with Lieutenant Colonel Francis Marion - the leader of the Patriot militia. After much discussion, a course of action was decided. Burwell led his unit away from camp, while two of his Majors led out their units, in the hope that one of the groups could intercept and redirect Tavington's spy.

It was Burwell's twenty strong unit who discovered the man, along a dark road, near to midnight. The Continentals were trotting their horses by the light of firebrands - a risky endeavor as they drew nearer to British occupied territory. A single rider was cantering toward them and Burwell felt a thrill of hope. What were the odds? He had no doubt he'd stumbled upon Tavington's courier, his spy.

While he would have liked nothing more than to hang the bastard, he used the opportunity has he intended - to seed Tavington with false information. He allowed the spy - who introduced himself as Ethan Cooke - to make camp with them, even shared his food as though the Loyalist was a Patriot comrade.

They found a likely place to make camp. Though it was late, Burwell instructed his men to sit around the camp fires, pass along a flask or two of whiskey and begin chatting freely in front of the spy. Burwell himself sat a little further away to read Beth's letter.

Gabriel eased himself to the hard, cold earth and leaned back against a log. The fire burned cheerily before him, he gazed across it to study the spy. Gabriel didn't recognise him, which was probably a good thing. Beth did not want Tavington to know she had a brother in the Continental's after all.

"Was it a rough ride then?" Gabriel asked the man politely, giving the pretense of good will. He passed the spy the whiskey flask.

"There's nothing like a long ride in this weather!" Cooke smiled. "Besides, it was good to get away from all those damned Lobster backs."

The Continentals all laughed appreciatively, Gabriel included. He turned to a comrade - Joshua Howard. He had known Joshua all his life and was deeply in love with Joshua's sister, Anne Howard. Now was the time to start seeding the spy with the information and diversions that had been decided upon earlier.

"I'll be glad to be out of South Carolina," Gabriel said to Joshua. "I feel naked out here with all the Lobsters and not another Continental unit for a hundred miles."

"I know," Joshua shuddered. "Especially with Bloody Ban coming back from New York - he has some where upward of two hundred Dragoons now, he'd annihilate us."

"He sure would. Well, we're finished here now and we've come this far without British detection. We'll be back with Gates in North Carolina within the next few days."

"Oh, its just you then?" The spy nodded to the twenty or so Bluecoats. Cooke spoke casually - showing no hint of being the spy that he was. "There's only what, twenty of you?"

"Yeh," Joshua shrugged and took a swill of whiskey. "We risked the gauntlet getting into South Carolina and have been here for the last few days right under the British noses! But we're finished here, time to sneak back out again."

"I see," clearly, the spy was intrigued. "Good job that - awfully clever of Burwell to get you this far. What possessed him though? Must've been important, like."

Gabriel and the others exchanged 'wary' glances, then Gabriel leaned in closer to the spy. He put on a 'conspiratorial' expression and whispered, "some of the Rutledge's found themselves stranded, unable to make their way to safety. They sent a plea to Gates to help them. You know what would have happened to them if the Redcoats had gotten hold of them!"

The spies eyes widened with astonishment.

"Off to the cells with Edward Rutledge, no doubt!" Joshua exclaimed. "We couldn't allow that, so we rode all the way from North Carolina, all stealthy like and collected up them Rutledge's. They're all safe now - except for Edward of course."

"Where are they?" Cooke glanced about, no doubt searching for the family who was supposed to have been rescued.

Gabriel silently cursed himself. They had come up with the broad plan of what would be told to the spy to explain their presence but did not have time to work out the finer points. Of course he would expect to see the family they'd rescued!

"Oh, we've concealed them in a carriage train heading for the North," he said quickly.

"Yeh," Joshua took up Gabriel's explanation. "It was too risky, traveling with us. If we were discovered then the Rutledge's would've been taken. So they were instructed to give false names at British checkpoints."

The made up many minor details that Tavington had no hope of discovering as false - enough to flesh out their story to give it the ring of truth.

"And so you are leaving now?" The spy ventured carefully. "You're mission is done and dusted?"

"Yes, we're going now. Back to North Carolina - to join General Gates, as I said," Gabriel repeated.

"When we rejoin with the army, we're going to push back hard against the British," Joshua boasted. Both men knew it was imperative that the spy had no concept of Gate's true intentions. Hell, the Continental General was only about thirty miles from them at that very moment, camped on the other side of Camden! Not hundreds of miles away - in North Carolina!

Burwell watched from where he sat apart from them as the troopers continued to talk. When the boys had seeded all of the predetermined false information, he made his move.

He had read Beth's letter - the one Tavington had forced her to write. And so his rage - his fury - was not feigned.

"I'll kill him!" Burwell suddenly exploded, jumping to his feet. "The Butcher dares to threaten her?"

"What's happened Sir?" Gabriel asked with just the right amount of astonishment and apprehension.

"Tavington! He's threatening Miss Martin - the woman I wish to marry! She has written to me," he held up the letter, "begging me to come to her rescue!"

He began striding purposefully across the small clearing, toward his horse as though he intended to ride to Charles Town and rescue Beth then and there.

"Sir!" Gabriel Martin and two other lads grabbed the Colonel and hauled him back. "You must not be so hasty!"

"I'll ride into Charles Town this very moment - I'll get her out, right now!" He bellowed. The spy watched it all apprehensively.

"With respect, Sir - lets be calm about this!" Joshua begged. "What does the letter say?"

"To meet with her - Sunday, at 7pm. But I will not wait! I will -"

"Sir! You could be captured if you march in there now!" Gabriel protested. "By the time you get there, it will be morning and I doubt you could enter Charles Town easily! This needs careful discussion and planning!"

"Very well," Burwell said stiffly. He had given quite a good account of himself, he was certain. It was time to allow his men to 'calm' him down. After a short while, Burwell turned his gaze to the spy. "How did you come by this letter?"

"Miss Martin gave it to me, Sir," Cooke began to recite Tavington's pre-arranged story, ready to lie through his teeth. "We met a week ago at a picnic and she has grown to trust me. She's right scared, she is. And the Butcher - he's breathing down her neck, threatening to take her into custody. She told me she just wants to get out of Charles Town, she wants to be with you, Sir."

Burwell tried to control his fury - this fellow had probably never spoken to Beth a day in his life! His words were Tavington's words, carefully designed to inspire fear, urging Burwell to act rashly.

"I will give you a letter to take back to Miss Martin on the morrow," Burwell informed the man. "My men speak sense - I can not hope to enter Charles Town without much planning first. You tell Miss Martin that I will be there, nevertheless. On Sunday at 7pm, in the Square. Memorize those words, just in case something happens to the letter I give you."

"Yes, Sir. Sunday, 7pm. In the Square. Miss Martin will be real relieved, Sir."

"I won't be happy until I have her safely out," Burwell said - which was true enough. He turned to his men and they began speaking openly of the plan change, discussing the details while the spy listened on, committing it all to memory.

"We'll leave for North Carolina as soon as I have Beth safely in hand," Burwell said. "I'll take her with me to North Carolina and we'll be married - as she has promised in her letter."

"Congratulations, Sir," the troopers clapped him on the back and drank and toast to the Colonel's coming nuptials.

The following morning dawned clear and the troopers rose from their bedrolls and began packing up camp.

With his head full of lies and misdirections, Cooke left the small Continental camp bearing a letter to 'Miss Beth Martin'.

The Patriots mounted and began the trek back to the main Continental camp.

"Disaster averted, Sir," Gabriel commented to Burwell who rode at his side. "That fellow has no idea we were pre warned."

"No, he doesn't,' Burwell replied. "You realise how close we came to discovery, don't you? That spy was damned convincing, I would not have suspected him myself - especially bearing a letter from Beth. He would have made it to our camp easily by asking the right people the right questions and flashing that letter around. Patriots all along this route would have directed him right to us."

"And he would have returned to tell Tavington that we are out here, enforce," Gabriel predicted. "Furthermore, he would have heard us discovering General Gates presence and the other units, close to Camden."

"Indeed. So yes, Corporal - disaster averted," Burwell replied in his stern voice. "Thanks to your sister..."

Tavington had no concept of Burwell's much larger force still camped close to Lake Moultrie, nor did he know of the three equally large camps waiting in concealment in various woods close to Camden. Thanks to Beth's warning, that there was a spy enroute, the Continentals were still in position, ready to strike Camden when Gates felt the time was right.

But still Harry worried for Beth. There was nothing he could do for her for the moment, with her residing in Charles Town in his enemies lap.

:::::

Beth sighed.

"Hmm?" William murmured the question against her lips. Her arms were draped over his shoulders, his strong hands held her waist. She sat across his lap side long to him, her legs swinging because they did not quite touch the ground in this position.

"So nice," she explained. She rocked her head to the side and he followed, his lips moving over hers slowly.

"I couldn't agree more," he said thickly and gave her waist a squeeze. Beth traced kisses along his smooth jaw, a moist trail down to his neck and back up again. She drew back momentarily to gaze down at him, so handsome - so...

She sighed again and lost herself in more kisses. She parted her lips to receive his tongue - it always made her shiver when she felt his stroking hers. Tavington moved his hands to her back and pressed her closer, holding her bosom to his chest. She melted against him willingly enough.

All good things must come to an end however. He had business at the Assembly Hall. Clinton had been away when Tavington arrived to discuss the letter he had received from Burwell, but he was due back now. Tavington had used the time to visit with Beth, who had been able to steal away for this wonderful interlude.

"I have to go," he whispered and Beth sighed with disappointment.

"Can't you stay? Just a few minutes more?" She begged softly. She stared down at him, at her own fingertip tracing his lips. He kissed her fingertips, then pulled her close to kiss her again.

"I am sorry, my darling," he said finally. "Clinton is expecting me."

"Oh, I'd not keep you from your duties," she said, though her tone suggested she'd _like_ to.

He smiled and helped her off his lap, helped her to her feet. As they strode from the lovers seat in the garden - where they had spent the last half an hour, Tavington began to brood. This was not his first visit to her since he discovered Burwell's letters, and he found himself becoming increasingly jealous and possessive of her. By the time they reached the courtyard where he had tied his horse, he had worked himself into a tight knot of jealous tension.

"Has that Watson fellow been to see you lately?" He asked coldly.

"No," Beth lied. She grew uneasy, sensing the change in him and thought it prudent to tell this one little while lie. There was nothing in it, in any case. Watson was fun to talk to, but she was not attracted to him. No point telling any of that to Tavington, he would explode with jealousy regardless of how innocent Watson's visits where.

"Good," William curled his lip. He had half a mind to have the boy sent from Charles Town - he could do it, it was fully within his power. Send him to Cornwallis - as far from Beth as possible. "What of other Gentleman callers?" He asked casually.

Beth was not fooled. If she told him she had had other suitors come to call, she sensed he would erupt immediately. Not that it mattered, only Colin had come to call on her and he could not be counted as a suitor - not even by William.

"Only Colin," she said truthfully, expecting William to shrug her friend off. Only he frowned instead and stared down at her with eyes turned to ice.

"Indeed? Alone - or with Miss Tisdale?"

"Well, alone," Beth admitted, startled. "William - you know that Colin and I are just -"

"Yes, friends," he curled his lip. "A male friend who does not bring his sweetheart along to visit? What do you two possibly have to speak about?'

"We speak about plenty," Beth said, becoming irritated. "You shove me off your lap because you don't have anymore time to kiss me but you have plenty of time to argue about Colin?" She snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "You know how I feel about you, William. You are my only suitor - the only one I want."

All too true - that he was the only one she wanted. She felt a pang of guilt, however - being engaged to Burwell, while it was the right thing to do and a welcome future, was causing her much conflict. Being Burwell's fiancé, she should not be stealing away with Tavington for moments of sitting on his knee and kissing! But it was so difficult to resist William. She did not want to resist him...

"The only one you want?" He said, suddenly warm again. He smiled a small, knowing smile.

"Go," she said primly. "You're in a hurry and if you linger I'll wipe that smile off your face."

She turned to walk away, even more offended now than before. Tavington chuckled, amused by her fury. He gripped her around her waist before she could walk more than a few steps and turned her to face him. After a long, lingering and very pleasant kiss, they both came up for air.

"I will come and see you later - if not, I'll be here tonight," he said, still brushing his lips across hers.

"See that you do," she murmured back, her fingers curled around his strong arms to keep from swooning. He always had that affect on her.

:::::::::


	18. Chapter 18 - The Simms Ball

**Chapter 18 - The Simms Ball**

Without breaking stride, Tavington marched through the throng in search of Beth. He was recognized on sight and people hastened out of his way, leaving a clear path for him to stride through.

There! He caught sight of her finally. She was side on to him, he could see her in profile as she spoke with a young man. No, not speaking - _flirting_. She was smiling and laughing. His lips tightened and he quickened his stride, but before he could take her by the arm and stare the other young man down, she glanced his way and Tavington realised his mistake.

Cilla Putman.

_Christ_ the two of them looked alike! He remembered Banastre commenting on how the cousins could be sisters - twins, and he had to agree with his friend. There were subtle differences, of course and William thought Beth was the more beautiful. As did Banastre, Tavington thought with a scowl. He wondered if his comrade still held a flame for Beth.

Easing his expression, he nodded politely.

"Miss Putman, have you seen Miss Martin?" He asked in his quiet drawl.

"Lieutenant Colonel Tavington," she bobbed a _very_ slight curtsy. "A lovely night isn't it? Yes, I am well this evening, thank you for asking. And the ball - the Simms have outdone themselves, wouldn't you agree?"

Tavington's jaw worked, his eyes growing colder by the moment. Not many people had the gall to speak to him however they chose. Banastre, certainly. Those who out ranked William. Bordon - _occasionally_, depending on Tavington's mood.

But this young woman? A brief image flashed in his mind, Cilla Putman, bent over a table, her pretty silk gown hiked up around her waist. Screaming as Tavington struck her bare backside over and again with his riding crop. The girl could use a decent spanking! Unfortunately, the girl was Beth's cousin and as such was afforded a certain measure of protection. A very small measure.

"Forgive me, Miss Putman," Tavington schooled his voice to cool politeness. "You are indeed correct, the Simms have done well. Their attempt to imitate one of the grand balls in London is admirable."

Hearing his veiled slight, Cilla frowned. Tavington smiled condescendingly and Cilla bristled like a cat. However, he continued before she could call him down.

"Miss Martin?" He arched an eyebrow in question.

"In the ball room, Sir, dancing. With her Private Watson, I believe," Scoring a hit, Cilla grinned broadly.

Tavington's smile turned sickly. "_Her_ Private Watson?"

"Yes, _hers_... now, if you will excuse me?" She was already turning her back on him, though William barely noticed.

He marched away from the girl, making his way outside to the separate structure that formed the ballroom. The heat of the South Carolina summer night washed over him and as he drew closer, the joyful music became louder. People all but leapt out of his way as he marched through them.

The doors to the ballroom were open to let in air. Tavington marched through them, his eyes searching for and finding, Beth. She was not with Watson however, but with a tall man who towered over her. Christ - the man would tower of Tavington for that matter! And he was flirting with Beth - that much was clear. William could see the signs even from this distance.

The man was laughing down at Beth, his eyes twinkled as he shot glances at her bosom, Christ - he even touched her waist! Beth swatted his hand away but she was laughing. _Laughing!_

The Colonel stood ramrod straight and watched, his eyes glittering as he ignored all else around him.

_Mine! He dares to touch her! _It was an effort to keep the scowl from showing but he managed it. Stone faced and frosty, he watched the two of them continue their flirtations until the set finally ended and Tavington marched forward to claim what was his.

::::::::::

"You look ravishing this evening," James Wilkins' eyes where bright as he gazed down at the much shorter Beth.

"Thank you, Mr. Wilkins, you are very kind," Beth smiled.

Her spirits were fairly high, considering all that had happened. She had done her best to set all her worries aside - she was at a _ball _after all, and everything was so lovely. Who knew when she would be able to enjoy the likes of it again?

The ladies wore their newly made gowns of silk and beautiful jewelry. The men wore their handsome suits - the Officers wore their dress uniforms. Beth herself had spent most of the day preparing, as had Mage and Cilla. Their poor maids had been run ragged - and hadn't Mila complained about that? Beth had let it wash over her, growing more excited as the day wore on.

No expense had been spared, the Simms had truly outdone themselves. Not only was the mansion a glittering candlelit paradise, but the perfectly manicured grounds beyond where brightly lit and seemed like a vision from a fairytale. And there would be fireworks - it was no longer a rumor, she had seen them being set up with her own eyes!

"Not kind, dear heart. Truthful," James eyes lingered deliberately on Beth's bosom before returning to her face. Her eyes opened wide with surprise.

"Well, it is still kind of you to say so. Tell me, Sir, where _is_ Mrs. Wilkins this evening?" Just a subtle reminder to Sarah's older brother that he _was_ a married man.

"Oh, here somewhere," James' voice was thick with amusement. The two were dancing through the moves of the latest set, they moved apart and then back together again. and James took the opportunity to place his hand on her waist momentarily.

Beth swatted his hand away and rolled her eyes when he laughed.

"You have become quite the flirt, haven't you?" She asked tartly.

"Oh, I was always a flirt, Miss Martin. You, however, have become quite the beautiful young creature. I had not noticed, before."

"No? If you keep this up, Mr. Wilkins, I shall tell Sarah. She will make you behave yourself." Beth arched an eyebrow as he took her by the arm to whirl her gently.

"No doubt..." James laughed. "You really should spend more time with my sister, Miss Martin. Come by the manor more often..."

"Good Lord!" Beth laughed aloud. "You're outrageous! How does your wife not notice?"

"I am not sure how she puts up with me, myself," James eyes twinkled. "Come now, don't you hold me in the slightest regard?"

"Perhaps," she eyed him up and down with mischief, he _was_ rather handsome - she had always thought so. A match between the two of them could never have been possible, even before he had married Miss Emily Simms. James Wilkins was a fervent Loyalist, her father an equally fervent Patriot. "You're married, however. Though it seems you need constant reminding."

"You're cruel to discourage me so," he laughed. "Though I suppose it was always truly hopeless. I've heard you have quite lost your heart to a British Officer."

Beth stiffened. "Where did you hear this?" She demanded.

"Oho! So there is some truth in it!" He began to laugh. "As for where I heard it, you must forgive my sister for inadvertently revealing what was surely a confidence. Don't be too hard on her, I have been asking about you often of late..." Again that hot gaze.

"Oh Lord..." Beth shook her head and rolled her eyes. As irritated as she was with Sarah, she was relieved that the gossip was confined to a small group still. Charles Town was a small place and gossip spread like wildfire. Beth hoped fervently that her feelings for Tavington were not too widely known outside her immediate circle of friends and family. It was inevitable that she would see Tavington later that night and she resolved to behave coolly, with reservation, so no one could question her conduct.

"I have yet to meet the man, myself," James was saying. "He is here somewhere, I assume?"

"I do not know, I have not seen him yet. Thank goodness."

"His attentions are not wanted?"

"It is... confusing. He is a dangerous man," Beth said soberly, thinking back to two days earlier when Tavington had frightened her half to death.

He had been to visit with her, as often as his duties had allowed, since that fateful day in her bedchamber. He treated with her as he had previously, flirting and stealing lingering kisses, though he was beginning to behave quite possessive of her. Furthermore, each time he discussed his plans for Sunday evenings appointment with Burwell, he tensed and became rather frightful.

What Beth was unaware of, was that Tavington had revealed his plans to his superiors and he was worried now of public failure.

"So I have heard, though I will discover the truth of it myself I am sure," James said. "You know my brother in law, Arthur - my wife's younger brother? Of course you do. He is already a Green Dragoon, I would like to join them too."

"Oh, no - are you joining the war effort?"

"Hmm, mmm, perhaps I will even be made Captain," Wilkins smiled. "Will you worry for me, my beautiful Beth?"

"I am sure your wife will do all the worrying you need, my handsome James," Beth laughed.

She did not pull her hand away when his fingers brushed along hers. It was quite pleasing to be admired by a man such as the affluent James Wilkins. Tavington had become so possessive of late, so intense. She sensed his rage and jealousy. It caused her no end of turmoil. James' regard was far more simple, sweet and ultimately, harmless. He was, after all, a married man.

He quirked an eyebrow and smiled with pleasure. "So you do regard me."

"Not truly, I am just flirting with you," Beth laughed up at him. "You are far too tall for me."

"You know what they say..." Wilkins smile became mischievous and Beth's eyebrows rose questioningly. He leaned in close and murmured in her ear. "We are all the same height in bed."

"Oh James!" The couples close by glanced at them as Beth laughed and hit Wilkins on the arm.

James smiled warmly. "I was foolish, I admit, my sweet Beth."

"How so?"

"By only asking for three dances. What was I thinking?"

"Now, now. Don't be greedy. There are plenty of other women to dance with tonight - Emily, for example."

"Ah yes, the obligatory dance with ones wife... I will attend my duty to her, of course. But I warn you, I will be thinking of you all the while."

"Flirt," Beth felt pleasure wash through her at his words and she began to wonder if he could kiss as wondrously as Tavington. Perhaps William was right to be possessive and jealous, she was just discovering that she had quite a wandering eye.

"You have a certain gleam in your beautiful brown eyes, Miss Martin," he teased. "One wonders what you could possibly be thinking?"

To tell him? Beth suddenly felt reckless - this handsome man, flirting with her, drawing out feelings she did not realize she had. Amazed at her own audacity, she smiled warmly and beckoned him close with an curled finger.

"I was just wondering if our Loyalist Colonial men kiss as wonderfully as the British..." she began to giggle at his startled expression.

"Miss Martin!" he said with mock outrage and a _very_ warm smile. "You naughty thing."

He immediately began planned on ways to get the girl alone. The possibilities were endless in a mansion and grounds as large as the Simms property.

"Hmm, your mischief is infectious," Beth said in an offhand way, dismissing her admission. "Still, I've only ever kissed one Colonial..."

"A Patriot at that," he knew she must be speaking of Burwell, it was quite well known he had courted her.

"Hmm," she agreed. "Though I can't imagine there would be a difference."

"Oh, I assure you there is," he sniffed. "Loyalist's are much sweeter."

Beth laughed brightly. She swatted his arm again and just like that, the spell was broken - for her anyway. Wilkins continued through the dance, casting her very warm gazes all the while.

The set came to an end, the other dancers began to disperse to find their partners for the next set. Wilkins bent over Beth's hand, pressing a lingering kiss that made her blush.

"I _should_ have asked for more than three dances..." He lamented.

And then Tavington was at her side, ramrod straight and tense. One arm looped behind his back, glaring coldly down his nose. His eyes took Wilkins in from head to toe in a quick, sharp glance. Beth eyed the Officer warily but he was not looking at her. His cold, piercing gaze was fixed on Mr. James Wilkins.

:::::::::::::::

"Sir," Beth ventured nervously. "Have you met Mr. James Wilkins? He is Mr. Arthur Simms brother in law."

Tavington threw her a startled glance.

"Mr. Wilkins?" His voice was a cold drawl, his stormy expression did not ease in the slightest. "Young Arthur says you wish to join the Green Dragoons."

"Yes, Sir, I do. He was going to introduce me to you this evening. I believe I can be quite useful to you, Sir. I know the Santee like the back of my hand, I am familiar with the locals and -"

"That is all very well, Sir," Tavington snapped. "Tell me, Wilkins, exactly where do your Loyalties lie?"

Wilkins glanced down at the Lieutenant Colonel, startled by the question. He might have been taller but Tavington's sheer presence made up for his shorter stature. The British Officer was clearly the dominant one.

"To King and Country, Sir. Where they have always been," Wilkins said stiffly. He was a well known Loyalist, after all, and had worked tirelessly on behalf of the Loyalist cause.

His eyes flicked to Beth, who stood beside Tavington watching warily.

Suddenly James understood. What Sarah had been telling him was true - all of it. The Colonel was possessive and jealous of Beth. He must have been watching Wilkins dance and flirt with her. Before he could remind Tavington that he was a married man, the Colonel snapped out another question.

"I see. And why should I trust a man who betrays his neighbors?"

"Those neighbors of mine," Wilkins said firmly - ignoring Beth, knowing she would be outraged over his next words. "Who stand against England deserve to die a traitor's death."

Both men ignored Patriot Beth's gasp, their eyes fixed on one another, weighing. Wilkins words where strong ones, Tavington did not doubt the man was speaking truthfully. Still, his cold gaze was unrelenting - the man had felt free to flirt with Beth, right there in the open!

"Are you are undoubtably aware, Sir," Beth took a step closer to William and wound her hand through his arm. He raised his eyebrows, disarmed by her public display of affection. "Mr. Wilkins was an Assembly Man before the body was disbanded? And of course you know already he is married to Mr. Arthur Simms own sister, Emily. Torys, the lot of them," she smiled at Wilkins to show she was teasing. "Though I won't hold that against him."

"Thank you, Miss Martin," Wilkins bowed formally, keeping his face smooth and carefully composed.

"You should not say such things -" Tavington began to chastise Beth grimly.

"Oh, I am joking for the Lord's _sake_, William!" She snapped, jerking her arm from his, suddenly irritated. "You are so stern lately!"

"I have good reason to be," he gave Beth a very pointed glance and she blushed. He took hold of her hand, replaced it back on his arm, then turned back to Wilkins. "Very well, we must speak some more, Sir."

Wilkins kept his gaze firmly on Tavington, not glancing at Beth even for a moment and the Officer's stormy expression began to ease. The other man understood William's claim to Beth and would offer him to further challenge.

"Thank you, Sir. I would like that very much."

"Later then?" William was about to lead Beth away when the musicians began the opening of the next set and suddenly Private Watson was at Beth's other side. He pointedly ignored Tavington, ignored Beth's hand on the Colonel's arm as he took hold of her other hand and placed a light kiss on her fingers.

"Miss Martin, are we still to have this dance? If you wish me to cede -"

"No, of course not," Beth drew away from Tavington. "Sir, I believe you and Mr. Wilkins have much to discuss, I would not want to keep you."

Tavington stared down at her with rising tension. Her eyes where large, wary and her expression was... Pleading. She did not want him to make a scene.

The proprieties must be kept. He had no choice but to leave her to Watson. To do otherwise, to take her away with him after she had promised to dance with another, would be unseemly.

"So we do," he said crisply. He kissed her hand and nodded down at her. "Until later, Miss Martin."

Her expression softened, her eyes seemed to be thanking him - he understood, she had been worried his temper would get the better of him and he would embarrass them all.

:::::

_Why did I agree to dance with Arthur Simms? _Beth lamented as the young Loyalist Officer led her through the set. The boy was amiable enough, he seemed to be growing in confidence and had learned a trick or two about flirting - no doubt from his brother in law, James Wilkins. Beth didn't mind that - not at all.

What bothered her was the knowledge that Arthur Simms' family were to be the target of an attack, members of his family were to be taken hostage.

Beth was torn. She smiled politely but inside, her stomach writhed with nausea. She knew this boys sisters and older brothers, she was acquainted with his mother! And yet she had to keep her information to herself, to do anything else would be to betray the Cause and Burwell - her own fiancé!

Visions of the imminent attack played through her mind. Would anyone be hurt? Would Emily Wilkins be there at the time? And Therese Simms - she _liked_ Therese Simms! How terrified she'll be.

With a heavy sigh, Beth tried to put the matter from her mind. There was nothing she could do for them. She wished she had not promised Arthur two dances - she still had to endure one more with the young Dragoon yet.

And then Tavington was at her side. Beth's breath caught as he took her hand and kissed it. Arthur saluted his superior and walked away. Still holding her hand, Tavington led Beth through the next set.

"You look beautiful, darling," he murmured, his eyes lingered on her lips and her bosom, covered with cream silks with brown embroidery.

Beth flushed. His were not the same as James Wilkins flirty glances, William's gaze was searing and filled with need. Her breath quickened and her knees felt weak. She could not take her eyes off him.

"Still in uniform," she noted quietly, for want of something to say.

"My dress uniform, Beth. Can you not see the difference?" He smiled down at her.

"I see a slightly frillier scarf..." She teased.

"Ah, but it is made of silk." His lips quirked in a smile

"You have gone to so much effort!" Beth tittered.

"I always do." He pulled her close and nudged her hair with his nose. "You smell so sweet, darling."

"William, people are beginning to stare..." Beth said breathlessly. She was quite right. A glance to either side of her showed people stealing glances at the couple, before whispering behind their hands frantically. So much for trying to remain cool toward him, with reservation, so no one could question her conduct. It was very difficult to maintain a calm demeanor with William gazing at her with such longing.

"Let them..." He shrugged. He released her however, though his eyes remained fixed on hers. "Perhaps we can steal away..."

"I will be missed, William," she said at once, stomping on that idea firmly. She could not be alone with him - she was officially engaged to Burwell now, even if it was a strict secret. "My partners will search me out when it is their turn to dance with me."

Tavington curled his lip with annoyance.

"If it is not bad enough that I have to share you with those others, you will not even spend a moment alone with me? You look so beautiful, my darling. How am I to keep my hands from you?"

"It is not easy for me, either," she murmured truthfully, with a pang of guilt for Harry. Her eyes lingered on William's handsome face and she felt a sharp flare of pleasure flood her stomach.

"Lord..." She shook her head and glanced away.

"So we are both to suffer for the entire evening?" His tone was sharp, he did not bother to hide his frustration. "It is torture, being this close to you and not able to touch you." He took her hand in his again, his fingers lightly tracing hers. He leaned in close again, his breathing as labored as hers. "I want to kiss you, Beth."

Beth swallowed hard. "It is hopeless," she murmured. "We are at a ball."

"I will contrive a way, darling. Arthur Simms is a Dragoon and we are in his home, after all..."

Beth paled at once, realizing he could spirit her away with ease - and with no one the wiser - if he put his mind to it.

"Then contrive a way to sit with me at dinner," she suggested quickly.

"We will not be _alone_ at dinner." Tavington snapped. He drew a ragged breath, trying to calm his growing irritation.

"I will not steal away with you, William," she said firmly, though she was breathless with nerves.

Fury flashed across his face at her refusal. He continued to dance, though his movements became stiff and his face was stone. Beth watched him and bit her lip as longing flooded through her. She felt like weeping, their time together was growing shorter by the day, though he did not know it. She would be married to Burwell soon enough but for now...

"Perhaps, later in the evening," she began. He turned his still angry gaze toward her.

"When the musicians stop, there will be a break before the dinner begins," he mused. "Everyone will be distracted, we would have half an hour to ourselves, perhaps longer."

"Where will we go?"

"Darling Beth," his irritation eased, the Officer smiled warmly. "Arthur Simms bedchamber has an excellent view."

"Oh, William..." Beth groaned.

Tavington's lips quirked with amusement and he squeezed her hand. His smile fled, however, as the dance ended and Private Watson came forward to claim his dance from Beth. The two men locked gazes, though Watson held his ground. The Lieutenant Colonel had no choice but to kiss Beth's hand and retreat, as propriety demanded.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"How many more times am I to watch her dancing with other men?" Tavington raged as he paced back and forth. He was alone with Bordon in the gazebo and he had a clear view of the ballroom. His eyes followed Beth as she danced in Watson's arms, the younger Officer was smiling and flirting - William saw with fury.

"The night is young and Miss Martin is a beautiful woman. I doubt she will sit a single dance tonight," Bordon explained, trying to be reasonable. It surprised him that Tavington was displaying so much jealousy over the young Colonial woman - he was engaged to Miss Price for one thing. And for another, Beth was merely a Colonial of mediocre wealth, according to Tavington. Good for a few nights of bed warming, but to be so jealous and possessive of her? Beth was not even William's primary mistress! Not as Harmony was Richard's. Still, he would voice his opinions of the matter _just_ yet.

"Three dances!" William snapped. "She is mine and I get only three dances with her! It is not to be _borne_, Richard."

"There is no help for it, however. Come, there are plenty of other beautiful young women here, and they would jump at the chance to dance with _you_, Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington of the Green Dragoons."

"I do not wish to dance with any of them," William scoffed quietly and curled his lip with disdain. His gaze again lingered on Beth and Private Watson.

"For Christ's sake, William!" Bordon was suddenly out of patience. "What is it with this girl? She is beautiful, yes. Butby your own admission, she is not from a wealthy family - she's little more than a farm girl in silks! Plus she is a _bloody_ Patriot! She does not deserve your attention, not beyond a moment's tryst!"

Tavington stopped dead and held his adjutant's gaze. Bordon sighed heavily and turned away. Clearly, William was not ready to hear such things of his latest favorite.

"All I am saying," the Captain continued in a moderated tone, "is that people are beginning to talk. You have ignored other girls, though there have been plenty sitting down with no one to partner with them. You stalk the edge of the dance, watching _her_ while she is with other men. Your actions are not going unnoticed, even Miss Martin is growing discomforted by your conduct."

"Yes," Tavington said cold and sarcastic. "I notice your Miss Jutland is allowed to dance with any who ask her."

"That is different, Harmony _is_ _my mistress_, I will allow her to dance only with my comrades and no others."

"And Beth is _my _mistress, despite what she thinks. Very well, I will take my example from you. From this point forward Beth is allowed only to dance with my own Dragoons. All others who have asked her, who are not Dragoons, will not be allowed to seek her for their promised dances."

"William -" Bordon was becoming exasperated.

"See to it, Captain."

Bordon blew a sullen breath. "Yes Sir."

He left William alone to brood. It would not be difficult to discover who had asked Beth to dance and if the man was not a Dragoon it would not be difficult to have him cede his turn to Tavington.

No, not difficult, but not desirable either. Especially if the other guests were already gossiping about him. Still, he would suffer this jealousy no longer.

:::::::::

Beth was becoming impatient. If Watson did not come to her soon, she would be forced to stand on the side of the dance, rejected! Where was the man? It was unlike him, he was normally so attentive. Perhaps he was growing angry and jealous over Tavington's obvious affections... No - it was not like him!

"Beth," Tavington murmured in her ear, startling her. "The dance is about to begin, where is your partner?"

"I'm not certain," she frowned. "He should have been here by now. I will have to sit on the side -"

The Colonel scoffed. "You will never have to sit on the side, darling. If he does not come to claim you, then you will be mine once more. Who is it, that has spurned you so?"

"He has not spurned me!" Beth's eyes widened with outrage over the very idea. "I am waiting for Private Watson, but something must be keeping him."

"Ah, I dare say he has been called away - a soldier is never off duty, you understand."

"Oh, perhaps..." Beth brightened a little. It would be embarrassing indeed, for her own dance parter to leave her waiting while others watched on and tittered behind their hands.

"Shall we, darling?" Tavington held his arm out to her.

"Well..." Beth searched the crowd once more. She would not wish Watson to be offended by coming along and discovering she had allowed another to take his place. But still, he was no where to be seen. She mused, "well, if he is not here I can not be held to blame."

"Certainly not, darling," he kept a straight face but his eyes where laughing. Soon into the dance he leaned in close.

"Meet me upstairs in the library when this dance ends," Tavington whispered in her ear.

The musicians would be taking a hiatus and there would be a long interval before the revelers entered the dining hall for supper.

"William..." She whispered back. "Lord, I don't know - what if we are discovered?"

"By whom? Do not worry," he assured her. "Bordon is taking care of everything, he will conceal our absence."

"Bordon knows?" She squeaked with panic.

"Of course - you do not expect me to keep secrets from my own adjutant? Come now, do not worry. No one will discover us. You and I..." he sighed as he gazed at her with longing. "Can have a _very_ enjoyable hour alone together."

She bit her lip, her eyes bright with need and nodded her acceptance. "The Library, after this dance? You will find me - its very large..."

"I'd find you anywhere," he said quiet seriously. Her worry melted, she smiled with anticipation and excitement.

::::::::::::::

Beth made her way to the library, apprehension now warring her excitement to be alone with William. The right thing to do was to turn back. Find Aunt Charlotte or Uncle Mark - one of them would take her home, take her away from this temptation. She had written to Burwell herself, accepting his proposal! He had written back to her, his letter was filled with joy that she had accepted him. She was engaged now, officially, irrevocably.

And yet here she was, slinking off to meet with Tavington for an hour of...

Oh, Lord - who knew what? She quivered with need and longing. And guilt - she was willingly being unfaithful to her future husband! If he discovered this - it would be cause for him to end the engagement!

She stopped in the large doorway that led into the library and clutched at a small table for support. If this was discovered, it would mean her ruin... Swallowing heavily, Beth turned back, ready to leave -

Suddenly a hand clamped around her mouth and she was pulled back against a hard body. She gasped with fright and twisted her head around. Tavington gazed down at her, a mischievous smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"Did any one see you?" he removed his hand from her mouth.

"You scared me!" Beth whispered furiously, breathing heavily with tension. She shoved at his shoulder. "Don't _do_ that! Lord, you are worse than my brothers!"

"Sorry darling, you bring out the worst in me," William laughed down at her. "Were you seen?"

"I do not think so, I was careful. Did anyone see _you_?"

"Of course not," he sniggered. "Come, this way."

Gripping her hand, he led her along to another door at the far end of the library. He strode quickly down corridors, and trotted up a slim flight of stairs. Beth kept up with him, breathless with nerves.

"I don't think this is a good idea, William," she whispered as he pulled her into Arthur Simms bedchamber. "What if we are discovered?"

"We won't be, darling. Arthur knows to keep away from his room for the next hour."

"Does he know who you are _with_?" She squeaked. "It's bad enough that Bordon knows!"

"No, darling. I did not tell him," Tavington closed the door behind them and turned to face her.

Beth's breath caught as he took her into his arms.

He began kissing her almost immediately, there was no time to waste. They could not linger upstairs for longer than an hour or so or they _would_ be discovered. He pulled her hard against his body and groaned into her mouth. Cupping her buttocks, he pulled her against him and began rocking his hard member against her.

"Wait," Beth gasped, both excited and frightened. She gripped his wrists, ready to push his hands away from her backside.

"No time to wait, darling," Tavington breathed, his voice thick with desire. "I need you Beth. Lord, I am aching, I need release!"

He released her buttocks and placed his hands on her waist. Beth gasped when he lifted her easily. He guided her legs around his hips, her skirts bunching around her thighs.

"William... Oh Lord - we can't..." She gripped his shoulders for support as he carried her across the room to the bed.

"I am not going to take your virginity, Beth," William assured her as he lowered her to the bed.

She moved to the centre of the bed, her skirts slipping back to below her knees. Beth sighed, she had felt far to exposed before. She shuffled back to the centre of the bed.

Tavington covered her with his body and nestled himself between her silk covered thighs.

"Wrap your legs around me again, darling," he whispered against the shell of her ear.

Beth obeyed. Breathing heavily, she pulled her skirts up to her knees and hooked her legs over his thighs.

"You'll like this, I promise you," he murmured, then began rubbing his hard bulge against her centre, over her silks.

"Oh," she breathed. "I think you're right."

Sharp jolt of pleasure shot through her body, starting from that wonderful place he was rubbing between her legs. She began to move her hips in kind, small motions, seeking to relieve the itch between her thighs.

Tavington sighed with contentment. He wrapped his arm beneath her head and brushed his lips over hers gently. Now that he finally had her where he wanted her most, some of his urgency left him. He began rocking his pelvis back and forth slowly, his erection confined in his breeches.

With his frightful intensity gone and with a wonderful tension building inside her, Beth's anxiety melted away. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and caressed his nape lightly. Tavington rocked his head to the side and suckled her bottom lip, then her top by turns. Beth whimpered with pleasure. Never ceasing that rocking between her thighs, William groaned against her mouth and kissed her deeply. He nudged her lips to part then glided his tongue into her mouth.

His tension was growing, the wonderful itch building steadily. But very quickly, it he discovered he needed more. Their clothes muffled the the sensations, there was too much padding between them.

"Not direct enough," he muttered, becoming frustrated. "These damned ball gowns, too many layers."

"You said I looked beautiful in it," Beth smiled and stroked his face. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, dropping her head to the side - it felt damned good to her!

"Yes, you do look beautiful in it," he stated. "But now I want it off you."

Beth's eyes flew open, suddenly filled with wariness. Her anxiety had returned.

"I will just push them up to your waist, darling," he coaxed gently. "It will feel better for you too. I will still have my breeches on."

"Very well, I can't deny how wonderful it feels..." Beth caught her bottom lip between her teeth and sighed.

That was all the permission he needed. William pushed himself up from her, now kneeling between her legs. His lips quirked in a small smile.

Here she was, laying on her back before him, her arms draped on the bed above her head. Her eyes never left his, hers were still a little wary. It was her first time, Tavington remembered belatedly, she had never gone beyond kissing. She was fearful. He wanted her to enjoy their encounter and he resolved to take it slow, despite their time constraint.

He caressed her knees first, his hands moving lightly over her silk stockings, making her melt. He continued, slowly his hands made their way under her skirts, pushing the silks higher up her legs. When her thighs were bared to him, his fingers traced the naked skin above her garters on the insides of her thighs.

Beth shivered and sighed. It felt lovely, she had never been touched there before. It made her feel hot and flushed, tension continued to build and she found herself wishing his fingers would move higher - the place he had been rubbing just a few moments before.

"Lift yourself," he murmured and she slowly lifted her buttocks from the coverlet. He pushed her skirts high about her waist and she lowered herself again.

There. William's breath caught. She lay naked from her waist down, with her legs draped apart to allow him room. He stared down at her naked womanhood, his smile fading slowly as white hot desire shot through him. His hooded eyes lingering on the dark blonde patch of curls between her legs, and on her quim, just peaking from beneath those curls.

"William..." She whispered, feeling somewhat uncomfortable - he was staring at her nakedness, after all! A place unseen since she was a little girl having her swaddling changed!

"It's alright - you are so beautiful," he murmured, finally raising his eyes to hers. Beth swallowed - his eyes were so dark, his face so serious - but not in a stern and angry way. He gazed at her with desire, with yearning. It stirred something deep within her and she relaxed and offered no protest when he returned his gaze to her womanly centre.

His fingers, which he had not removed from her thighs, drifted higher. He knew himself that the skin at the top of the thighs, in the juncture on either side of a person's core, was sensitive and to be touched there lightly was bliss. He did this to Beth now, tracing lightly over the silky skin. She closed her eyes and sighed, relaxing once more.

He couldn't take his eyes off the sight, his fingers, so close to her golden curls, so close to her womanly folds and the quim concealed within. He allowed his finger to stray over her folds lightly with a shaking hand - the first to ever touch her there. He _would_ be her first - in everything. He gently pried her folds apart, revealing her quim.

"Oh... William," he dragged his eyes away from her centre, glanced at her flushed face. She was breathing heavily, quickly. "Oh... It feels... so... Oh..."

"I know," Tavington leaned forward over her and kissed her insistently, demanding more responses from her.

She did not disappoint. She placed her hands on the side of his face, holding him tight, and whimpered against his lips as his tongue stroked hers. His fingers continued their explorations. He grew bolder, his forefingers began circling and massaging her hardened quim until she began to pant and writhe.

His own need became to great to ignore. He removed his fingers and Beth gasped with disappointment. He kissed her deeply and covered her with the trunk of his body, aligning his erection against her quim perfectly. Her gasp became one of pleasure again, when he ground down against her in small circles, each one wider than the last. He applied greater pressure with each rotation.

"Oh my God!" Beth cried out loudly. She arched her back and gripped his neck. "Oh, William!"

He watched her face carefully and when she met his eyes again, he saw hers were glazed, _crazed_ with need.

"So good," he whispered as he continued that wondrous grinding. _Wondrously good._

He buried his head in the nook of her neck and shoulder, gasping and grunting into her ear with each slow rotation.

"Wrap your legs around me," he whispered raggedly and helped her lift one leg around his waist. "Ah, thats it."

He moved faster now, his pelvis grinding against hers and she pushed back and gasped, her nails digging in to his neck. "My Beth... Ah, Christ! Lose control darling, let yourself go."

"Oh William!" A long low keen, she turned her face to his, her brows furrowed in a deep frown. "Oh, God, I never knew... Oh..." The tension had built rapidly and Beth sensed it was about to explode. She was not certain what she would feel when it did, she only knew she wanted it to, wanted to feel it, yearned for it.

"It is good, is it not?" His voice still ragged, he needed to hear her say it, to tell him how wonderful it was. She nodded frantically and pulled him closer.

"Oh, God..." she panted raggedly. "So good!" Her legs gripped his waist and she pushed up harder, breathing heavily - he could feel her heart pounding against his chest.

Quietly gasping and and grunting, they rocked and moved against each other, kissing with urgency now.

She closed her eyes and turned her face to one side, panting through parted lips. Tavington massaged the back of her scalp as he watched her face flush with pleasure. Her breath quickened and her pelvis writhed faster against him, her entire body in movement. She turned her glazed eyes back to him.

"Oh William, it aches..." She whispered. "It aches, but.. oh, it feels so wonderful."

"Lord, I know!" His lips crashed against hers, nipping while he moaned. "Christ, I am in agony, darling. Beth are you still fearful? I need more, I need..." He dropped his head to her shoulder and pressed his hips forward with a groan. "Skin to skin - I need to feel you!"

"No, I am not afraid any more... I need more too," Beth kissed his head.

"You are setting me off my leash?" He lifted his head and smiled down at her with hope. Her breath caught and she swallowed hard but she nodded.

"You must not take my virginity, though," she said raggedly. "Please - you must not."

"On my honor, I will not take your virginity."

Beth licked her lips and watched as Tavington pushed himself up from her again. He unbuckled his belt, then unbuttoned his breeches. His eyes still holding hers, he pushed his breeches down enough to free his aching erection. It popped free of its confines and Beth gulped. She kept her eyes resolutely on his.

"You can look at it, it won't bite you," Tavington's smile deepened and when Beth shook her head frantically he laughed down at her fondly. "Very well."

Still chuckling he took hold of his cock and, staring down at her between her legs, he pressed forward, aligning his erection directly against her quim once more.

The change was dramatic. Both groaned with the new found pleasure and Tavington crashed his lips to hers in a devastating kiss. He pressed his hips forward, beginning their slow rotation and grind again.

Beth began to buck - gasp after gasp, she bucked and writhed as a the new tension built steadily. He was right, it was far more wonderful and intense than before - being skin to skin as they were now.

"Oh it feels so good!" She cried out and clutched at his collar, biting her lip on a groan as a wave of pleasure coursed through her. Sharp and pleasant bolts flashed through her, in her stomach, along her spine. And between her legs - Lord, the feeling. She pushed up harder against him. "More, oh, please more!"

His erection slid back and forth along the length of her, the bulbous tip parted her folds and nudged against her quim, more jolts of pleasure had her crying out and clinging to him. Her hips moved up and down in rhythm with his. The heat was building in both of them, gentle but urgent waves for Beth and sharp, searing pulses that had Tavington grunting, deep and low, against her ear. Their loud gasps filled the quiet of the room.

"Agh agh agh agahhh!" Tavington snarled. "So close!"

Sweat beaded his brow and his face twisted in a bestial scowl as his pleasure reached its apex, he was almost at the point of no return. He crashed his lips against hers, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth he nipped it lightly between his teeth with a growl. He moved his hips frantically, forward and in circles against her.

Beth found it terrifying, he seemed completely out of control, nevertheless another jolt of pleasure surged within her and she pushed up against him, arching her back.

"Ohhhhh!" A tingly warmth suffused her and it was growing more intense by the moment, her body questing for more.

His hips angled down and the tip of his erection caught her entrance. He growled with pleasure and pushed forward sharply, urgent now to gain bury himself in her velvety depths, to take her maidenhead.

"No!" Beth gasped and punched at his shoulders, kicked his back with the heels of her feet. "William, you _promised_!"

"Darling, I am sorry, I will be more careful," he rasped and kissed her harshly. "Lord, you drive me to madness!"

He moved his member higher again, away from her tempting entrance. He rubbed against her quim and Beth calmed from her fright. She squeezed her legs tight around his back her fingers gripped his queue and panted into his mouth.

Tavington stopped momentarily. He pushed himself onto his arms, bracing himself high above her. His fists planted into the mattress to give him purchase and his ramrod arms supported his body above hers. Beth gazed up at him, waiting desperately for him to begin again.

His fingers dug into the bed coverings and he braced his knees between her legs. He lowered his head to hers to give her one last, harsh, kiss then arched his back away from her.

Then he began to buck - in a frenzy of movement, his erection pushed hard against her, stroking along her faster.

Beth groaned, her hips surging against his frantically. She raised her hands above her head and wound her fingers around his wrists, holding on for dear life.

The feeling was overwhelming, the tingly warmth became a throbbing blaze. Her body was in a frenzy of movement, her legs gripping his waist, her fingers clutching his wrists, her body writhed, yearning for release.

"Yes, my darling," Tavington rasped as he watched her, he moved more frantically, delighting in her moans. "Your first climax, come for me, my little Beth. I want to see you lose control - come for me!"

Demanding now, though Beth barely heard him, lost to the wonderful feeling, the quest for more. She urged him on, lowering her legs from his waist, she planted her heels into the bed and lifted herself up hard against him.

She held her breath and suddenly it was there, the release her body was questing for. Beth arched her back and keened, it was so much more than she could have imagined. It flowed through her in surges, carrying her. Her entire body began to float on waves of heat and pleasure.

Tavington, still watching her through his glazed eyes, gloried at the sight of her, as he gave her her first climax.

"Mine!" he gasped against her ear as he thrust along her, drawing more from her. "You are mine, now. Mine!"

She nodded. "Yours," she rasped - it was all she could manage, as overcome as she was by the pleasure, but it was enough for him. It was his undoing - that rasped acceptance, her surrender.

He choked on a groan, the tension and fire that had been smoldering deep inside him surged.

A heat seared his veins and he cried out. Pleasure exploded through him, his cock twitched violently, the agonizing tingle became thrilling and hot like heaven fire. He crashed his lips to hers, his kiss possessive and rough, groaning against her mouth as his climax took away all thought, all sense of himself, his seed spurting from him - thick ropes landing in her dark blonde curls and across the coverlet.

For mere moments it lasted, it felt like a life time. He lowered his head to her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around his neck as they slowly calmed and came back to themselves. He lifted his head to gaze down at her, his face set in a frown. She smiled up at him and rubbed her thumb over his brow to ease away the farrowed creases.

"Lord..." She murmured finally, still a little breathless. "You were right."

"I usually am," he tried to smile. His climax had been so intense however. He was struggling to come down from it. "What was I right about?"

"Kissing is a drop in the ocean... William..." She laughed, a joyous laugh of release. "I felt like I _was_ the ocean! A warm, wonderful ocean, floating... Lord."

He smiled and kissed her gently. "A warm, wonderful ocean? Mine was like dancing on searing flames..." He confided.

"Searing flames... No wonder you looked as you did, as though you were in a rage. You were frightful, William."

"You drive me to madness," he repeated his words from earlier and kissed her again. Then he collapsed alongside her with a heavy sigh.

She turned her head to regard him seriously. "You almost took my virginity after promising you wouldn't."

"I know, I am sorry. I lost control for a moment there."

"Just for a moment?" She smiled, deciding to forgive him. She had been fairly out of control herself.

Tavington chuckled.

"Come here," he held his arms to her. She turned onto her side and lifted her head to settle in his embrace. They kissed gently and caressed each others faces. It was bliss - to warm and loving. She began to feel, finally, that perhaps he was as deeply in love with her as she was with him.

But then she suddenly remembered she would be leaving, very soon. Guilt and anguish surged through her, she had to leave...

But after what they had just shared...

'_Yours'_ she had said, though she was promised to another. She would never belong to William.

She drew away and bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.

"What is wrong, Beth?" He noticed her sudden tension.

"Nothing," she smoothed her expression and smiled, kissing him again. "I was just worried about how much time we have been here for, we have lingered far too long. Will we be noticed, do you think?"

"No, not as much time has passed as you think. We should head back now, though," he said reluctantly.

Beth began to rise.

"Wait, here -" he pulled a kerchief out of his pocket. "You will need to wipe my seed from you, darling, or it will be on your skirts."

After they tidied themselves and fixed their clothing, Tavington took Beth by the hand and led her from the room. They went back they way they had come, only this time they walked slowly, gazing at each other with contentment. Beth leaned into him as they walked, resting her head against his arm.

All too soon they reached the library and they could go no further in one another's company without being seen. Tavington leaned down to brush his kiss across hers and Beth responded with a sigh.

"I will meet you in the ballroom in fifteen minutes," he told her. "By the clock."

"Hmm," she murmured. The pleasant afterglow was still spread across her stomach and between her legs. "I am glad you contrived a way for us to have dinner together. How did you manage it?"

"I have my ways," he smiled and kissed her nose.


	19. Chapter 19 - A Chat With Clinton

**Chapter 19 - A Chat With Clinton**

Vera nodded politely to Mrs. Middleton and added some inane comment to the conversation. Her eyes where on Tavington however, with Miss Beth Martin sitting at his side.

Before setting foot in the Simms mansion, Vera had already resolved to watch Tavington like a hawk. She would take notice of each and every woman he spoke to and how long they conversed for. She would watch his face, try to determine who he played special attention to. She would watch for who he danced with and how many dances he gave each woman.

She was determined to discover who his new lover might be.

However, in the end, she need not have bothered with her _stealthy_ reconnaissance. It became glaringly obvious very early on which young woman held the Colonel's affections. He danced with her and no other. He watched from the sidelines as the girl danced with other men, his handsome face twisted with jealousy. And he had contrived to seat with her at dinner, she saw now.

_And look, brown ribbons! _Vera almost laughed. As if she did not have enough confirmation already, here was Beth Martin with her brown ribbons threaded through braids, along with a gem encrusted lace net covering her hair.

Vera had been slapped across the face for trying to throw Tavington's keepsake - one of Beth's damned ribbons, into the fire. She had been ablaze with jealousy and it had not occurred to her that he would ever lash out so violently.

From his sister, he had said. Vera curled her lip, struggling to maintain her fury. All week, he had been bedding the girl. All week! Or trying to seduce her, at the very least. But judging by the way the two of them stared at each other, he had succeeded. The covert looks, small warm smiles. His need to continually touch her hand, her hair, anything he could touch covertly without drawing untoward attention. She only noticed because she was watching so closely.

How close he sat with her, Vera felt certain his leg must be hard up against hers under the table. Probably rubbing their feet together too, she thought with disgust. He was subtle, she would give him that. Very subtle, if she had not been watching so keenly she would never have noticed.

She remembered his first night in _her_ house. His flirty, warm glances, the way he touched her hand covertly, rubbed her foot under the table. The way he had made love to her that very night, he was easily the best lover she had ever known - and she had known a few.

Tarleton... Another lover, albeit an unknown one. Fury welled within her, another man to be enamored of the blonde haired chit - crying out Beth's name while he was inside her, repeating it over and over. Vera stabbed her meat with her fork, it was an effort to keep the rage from showing on her face.

Another covert glance, just in time to see Tavington lean in close - he seemed to be inhaling Beth's scent, his expression possessive, needful, adoring. Rapturous.

Vera jerked her eyes away, stunned with realization. That he had bedded Beth, she now had no doubt. What shocked her to her core was the discovery that the good Lieutenant Colonel was in love with her!

With Beth Martin!

The man has lost his mind - a Redcoat soldier, in love with a Patriot? A woman's whose father was a high standing Assembly man?

After her initial shock, Vera began to reason her way through her discovery.

Beth's father would _never_ allow her to wed anyone other than Colonel Burwell. Benjamin Martin would dispossess her - she would be coming to Tavington with _no_ dowry!

And Tavington himself - Vera had known for some time now, after much eavesdropping, that the British Officer had some Lady of small fortune waiting for him in England, complete with twenty thousand pounds and a house in the middle of London!

No, he could not be interested in _marrying_ Miss Martin. Surely not. He was, however, in love with her, of that Vera had no doubt.

And the young girl had rejected him. At some point, she _must_ have! Despite what Vera was seeing now - despite her certainty that Beth had taken William to her bed. On the very night that Beth had stayed over in Vera's house, William had come to Vera. He had fucked her, then announced it was over between them!

He must have tried to seduce Beth in Vera's own home! She refused him, then, leaving him wanting. And so he had come to her, Vera, for fulfillment.

The gall of him! The _fucking_ gall! In her own home, no less!

For days now, she had wracked her brains trying to think of the best way to avenge herself. She had tried to control the urge, for to do anything rash could expose her affair with William to her husband. But Tavington's constant presence in her home served to remind her, it infuriated her and took her beyond reasonable thought. Perhaps it was the baby growing inside her that made her so irrational.

Whatever the case, she had discovered many things about William in her search for his mistress. She had discovered a woman he had bedded several times - a barmaid called Helen Shaw. Then there was some whore - Linda - who plied her trade, he bedded her frequently.

And she, Vera, had been his mistress all the while! He had not even been faithful to her!

_Focus, Vera, focus... _She strived to calm herself, determined now on her course of action.

So far, she had no avenue for revenge, not without exposing herself which could only lead to her ruin. But here it was, staring her in the face. And all she had to do was get 'dear Beth' alone. She could pass on a little warning to the naive chit, tell Beth all she herself had discovered. Not only about Helen Shaw and Linda, but of his fiancé waiting for him in England.

That alone would not be enough, not ordinarily. Beth would be hurt of course - devastated even. But it would not hurt Tavington, beyond mere frustration that his latest toy was denied him.

But judging by his gazes - Vera was becoming increasingly certain that he was in love with Beth. To

Vera smiled slowly.

Yes, a little warning. And it should have no repercussions - not for her.

Beth would not want it known that she had bedded the Officer - it would mean her ruin! Chances were, she would slink away and cry in some quiet corner and Vera's husband would remain none the wiser.

And as for Tavington. He would be deprived of his little lover. The poor dear Colonel would be alone...

Vera glanced at the happy couple again, elation surging through her. She began plotting exactly what she would say when she finally managed to get the young girl alone.

Tonight... Her smile broadened. It must be done tonight.

And a letter to Miss Eleanor Price - Tavington's fiancé - would be on the very next ship leaving for England.

**:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::**

The dinner hour was finished and the guests began to disperse. To the great hall, the gardens, the ballroom - though the music and dancing would not be starting again for some time. Between gaps in the people walking past, Beth caught her Aunt Mage's eyes across the hall. Before she could join her - she had barely seen her family all evening - Tavington placed his hand on her arm.

"We are summoned," he informed her and pointed at Sir Henry Clinton who was exiting through a small door. "Come."

"What?" Beth gasped. She reached for him, wrapped the fingers of both hands around his arm. "What do you mean 'we are summoned'? Why? What -"

"Stop panicking, Beth," William rolled his eyes. "No doubt he merely wishes to speak of Sunday night, perhaps he wishes to thank you in person for your assistance. He is a Gentleman after all."

"Oh..." Beth loosened her hold but did not release him entirely. Her heart pounded and she felt her face flush - with nerves first and foremost and with embarrassment over her reaction.

"Beth," Tavington pinned her with his gaze, his eyes suddenly cold. He lowered his voice to a murmur - not even the closest passerby could have heard him. "I have gone to great lengths to make you appear a Loyalist. I've told Clinton many untruths for him to believe this. Do and say _nothing_ to contradict me."

Beth shivered. She swallowed and removed her hands to stroke her silk skirts nervously.

"I won't," she breathed finally.

"Excellent," he said, then offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Beth wound her hand in the nook of his arm and the two strode around the great table toward the door they had seen Clinton exit from. Before she and Tavington stepped through, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder, again meeting her Aunt's gaze. Both wore equally worried expression.

On impulse, Beth grabbed hold of a passing servants and whispered instructions for the young man to deliver a message to Mrs. Mage Putman, that Beth was meeting with Sir Henry Clinton and would join her later.

The man nodded and went on his way to search for Mage. Beth ignored Tavington's curious expression as they continued on once more. Clinton was waiting for them a little further down the long corridor and to Beth's surprise, he was not alone. Mr. and Mrs. Simms were with him. When the Commander in Chief saw she and William were approaching, he nodded and continued on, with the Simms in tow.

Clearly, the Simms would be joining them for this impromptu meeting.

Beth's heart sank to the floor.

_Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic, _she repeated it to herself over and over - a mantra to help her remain calm. The Simms couldn't possibly have learned that Beth herself knew their family would be attacked by the Continentals! Gabriel had not even told her that it was the Simms family targeted, she had merely assumed it. Why, for all she knew, it could be any of the great Loyalist families! Plenty of them had sons and brothers serving in the Loyalist militia!

By the time they followed Clinton into a small but luxuriously appointed receiving chamber, Beth was near to fainting. Tavington noticed and patted her hand. He was perplexed himself as to why the Simms were to be joining them.

"All will be well, darling," he murmured. "You have nothing to fear."

She smiled up at him weakly but gratefully.

"Please, take a seat, Miss Martin," Clinton waved his hand toward a comfortable armchair. Before Beth could head toward it, William steered her to a chaise where he could sit beside her. Mrs. Simms watched this with a small frown. William met the older woman's eyes and arched an eyebrow in question but Mrs. Simms pulled her gaze away. She and her husband sat in single chairs to Tavington and Beth's left while Clinton lowered himself into a comfortable armchair across from them.

Ignoring Tavington entirely, Mrs. Simms met Beth's eyes and smiled warmly, which relieved the girl to no end.

"Thank you for coming Miss Martin," Clinton began once everyone was settled. "I appreciate your time - we are at a ball after all and you are young. I imagine you would rather be downstairs dancing at this moment."

"No, Sir Clinton, it is my honor," she said a little breathlessly. She was speaking the Commander In Chief, after all. She might be a Patriot at heart but even she could not help but to be impressed by being in the presence of such a high ranking personage.

"I thank you all the same," Clinton repeated. "Miss Martin, I have several things to discuss with you, all of which is related to Sunday nights mission."

Beth shot a quick, startled glance at the Simms. As they showed no surprise, she could only assume Clinton had confided in them.

"Has Lieutenant Colonel Tavington told you what your role will be? Your task?" Clinton asked her.

"Yes, Sir," Beth swayed slightly, feeling sick to her stomach. She fidgeted with her fingers in her lap and continued nervously, "I don't seem to have much to do, Sir. Lieutenant Colonel Tavington has explained that he would escort me to the Square where I will sit and wait for Colonel Burwell. Apart from that, and the letter I wrote, he said nothing more was expected."

"Indeed, nothing more is expected," Clinton rushed to assure her. "You have already provided us a great service."

"It is admirable, Miss Martin," Mrs. Simms gushed while Mr. Simms nodded gravely. "Admirable and most brave of you. I confess I was quite startled to learn you are a Loyalist! But I quite understand why you would keep it a secret. Many of us have felt the necessity over the last four years of rebel occupation - and you with your heavily Patriotic family - I have no doubt I would have kept my allegiance a secret also!"

"Yes," Beth said nervously. She shot a quick glance at William and he nodded subtly with encouragement. This played nicely along with what the falsehoods he had already seeded, after all. "It has been a difficult time," Beth continued.

"Especially with Colonel Burwell courting you," Mr. Simms pinioned in his deep voice. "No doubt you have found it a very fine line to walk. Imagine that - a Loyalist being forced to marry such a high ranking Patriot personage!"

"It must be wonderful to be free of that entanglement!" Mrs. Simms stated emphatically.

"Yes, wonderful," Beth murmured.

_Just play along, as Harry told you... _She decided that was the best course of action. As confused and overwhelmed as she was just now, she could find no other way to deal with the situation. In his latest letter to her - which she received the day before - he had advised her to do exactly that. He himself was playing along, at least until Sunday evening when it became apparent that he would not be coming to the appointed meeting. _Just play along..._

"Please know that your assistance in this matter is greatly appreciated," Clinton said. "I am well aware of the conflict this will be causing you. I understand your father is a Patriot and former Assemblyman?"

He glanced at Mr. Simms, who nodded sagely. Simms had been an Assemblyman also and had often been at odds with Beth's father.

"Yes, Sir," Beth lowered her eyes, she could feel her cheeks burning. Tavington was at his ease, relaxed, content to watch silently for now. He had yet to say a word since they were seated.

"Miss Martin, you do not need to be embarrassed," Clinton said kindly, mistaking her reaction for shame. "One can not choose ones family! I harbor concerns for your welfare and that is what I summoned you here to discuss."

"My welfare?" Beth glanced up with a frown.

"Yes. Tavington has informed me that you are the lone Loyalist in your immediate family. Mr. Simms has confirmed this - I questioned Mr. Simms in regard to your father as he knows him personally. It must be quite a difficult thing to stay true to the Crown under these extenuating circumstances. Not only are you defying your father by serving us, but you are pitting yourself against Colonel Burwell - a man your father respects and considers a friend."

"Ah, yes, Sir. It is a difficult thing," Beth said softly, lowering her gaze again.

"Miss Martin and I have discussed this at length," William said in his quiet drawl. "She has been struggling with this - it has been a confusing time for her. She will be going against her father and a man who courted her for two years. In that time, Colonel Burwell has earned Miss Martin's respect and her admiration."

"Yes, yes - even I respect and admire Colonel Burwell," Clinton replied. "He is a formidable and powerful enemy - I have lost count of the times I have wished he had stayed true to the Crown and served as one of my own adjutants."

A cynical smile quirked William's lips. He had been present many a time when Clinton had ranted and raved about the Colonial Colonel and lamented that Burwell had chosen to be a rebel instead of a Loyalist. Clinton had never stated those sentiments as politely as he was doing now.

"But she sees the importance in his capture and will do her duty," Tavington finished.

"Yes, yes, I am certain," Clinton waved the comment away and turned back to Beth. "You father will consider it both an embarrassment and a betrayal. Have you considered the repercussions of this, Miss Martin?"

_Oh, I've thought of the repercussions, alright! _Beth barely stifled a bitter laugh. She had thought over and over again what Tavington would have done if she had not co-operated with him, if she had not written that damned letter summoning Burwell. She fretted over what he would do if he discovered she had sent a second letter to Burwell, warning him of the ruse. She had agonized over the repercussions!

But not once had she considered what her _father_ would do. She turned her mind to it now, while Clinton waited patiently. Patriot Benjamin Martin. Former Assemblyman and father of eight children - one of whom served in the Continental Army under Burwell's direct command.

Harry Burwell was not only a high ranking Officer in the American Army, a hero and rallying point to all Patriots. Not to Benjamin. The two had so much history - saved each others lives when they served together twenty years previously. Burwell had championed Benjamin ever since - earning Benjamin the respect of his neighbors and a seat on the Assembly. They were friends and Benjamin had harbored hopes that Beth would accept him, Burwell, as her husband.

So - hypothetically speaking. What _would_ he do if all of this was really happening? If she _was_ a Loyalist? He would not have liked it at all. There would have been many heated discussions on politics and allegiance between the two, she felt certain. But if she actually _allied_ herself with the British? If his own daughter betrayed the Cause so decisively. If his own daughter worked with the British to lure Burwell to his own capture.

Benjamin loved his children dearly. But if one of them betrayed him - shamed him - so completely... Why, he'd probably never speak to that child again! She could imagine he would not even want to look at her! He was slow to anger, of course. But for this? Beth could not imagine he would forgive her - not easily. Perhaps not ever.

"I believe he would disown me, Sir," Beth said finally in a quiet voice.

Although she understood it was hypothetical only and she would not be faced with such a fate, she could not help feeling a stab of anguish. Her breath caught and she could say no more.

"That is my belief also," Clinton said gently. "I would certainly disown one of my children under these circumstances."

He paused and waited for her distress to pass.

"There you go, my dear," Mrs. Simms leaned forward kindly and pressed a silk handkerchief into Beth's hand.

William, sitting tensely as Beth wept, had to restrain the urge to comfort her. He could not pull the girl into his arms - not in this company. Cursing himself for a fool, he realised he should have reassured her before now. He had suspected her father would shun her and had already planned to care for the girl himself.

She was his mistress after all - their time in Arthur Simms chamber put paid to all of Beth's protests to the contrary. She would not be alone once her family disowned her, but of course he could not tell her that just now. And so he was forced to sit stoically beside her, appear uncaring, as she wept. If he had assured her of his plans before this, she would not be so distressed just now.

"Thank you," Beth whispered to the sympathetic Mrs. Simms. Why she had begun to cry, she could not say. Perhaps it was the stress of the moment, the constant fear that her betrayal would be discovered. Her nerves, sitting in the presence of such high personages. It was not as though she _was_ betraying the Cause! It was all hypothetical. She had sent her warning to Burwell and even if Harry was caught, her father would find no fault with her conduct - she had done nothing for him to disown her.

Upon seeing her tears, Clinton's expression became even more sympathetic. Believing her to be distressed over her fate, he spoke into the silence to calm her.

"I confess that I am quite fearful for you - a young woman sent from the protection of her family," he said smoothly. Beth dabbed at her cheeks, she glanced up and met his gaze. "The service you are performing for us is an important one. Nevertheless I understand it comes at great personal sacrifice and I will not take it for granted. Whether or not it eventuates in Burwell's capture, I believe firmly that it will eventuate in your immediate expulsion from your family."

Beth swallowed and stared at her hands dully.

"I believe that is the case, also," Mr. Simms stated. "I know Mr. Martin well and he loves his children - he is a very good father. However, he is a very staunch Patriot and Burwell was his comrade in arms in their younger days. I can see no other path for Miss Martin now."

"Thank you, Mr. Simms," Clinton nodded respectfully, then met Beth's gaze again. "It is for that reason, Miss Martin, that I extend to you my personal protection," he continued. "You see - it bothers me greatly that a young woman such as yourself - with your whole future ahead of you - might find herself set adrift because of the service she has performed for the Crown. No Loyalist who sacrifices herself should be treated so. His Majesty King George would be outraged over the very idea!"

"Certainly not!" Mrs. Simms agreed heartily. "What would other Loyalists think? Why, young women like Miss Martin might not come forward at all if they believe they would find themselves set adrift with no assistance from the Crown."

"Quite right, Mrs. Simms," Clinton replied. "I assure you, this will not be the case. Your consideration of the girl gives me heart." He turned back to Beth. "We shall take care of you, whatever the outcome of Sunday nights tryst might be."

"Care for me how?" Beth asked quietly.

"As we've discussed, it is our belief that you may find yourself disowned, with no home, no family, no husband and therefore; no protection. Mrs. Simms, who is quite fond of you, finds this as distressing as I do. And so I have decided I will become your Guardian for the time being. And Mrs. Simms has agreed to open her home to you."

Beth's jaw dropped. She stared at Mrs. Simms with frank amazement. She had never known the woman to hold such sentiments toward her! But here she was, nodding and smiling for all the world as though she could think of no better prospect, than having Beth living in her home.

Tavington's reaction, while not as visual, was just as strong. This was not in accordance with his plan at all! Though he had not discussed it with Beth, he had had visions of taking her with him when they left Charles Town. She was to reside with him in his tent much as Miss Harmony Jutland was to reside with Captain Bordon! He had never admitted it aloud but William found himself, at times, to be fiercely jealous of Bordon and Harmony's relationship. Richard was far more at ease than he had ever been these last four years now he had a full time mistress.

William wanted the same for himself and had thought he had found it with Beth. But Clinton would take his assumed role of 'Guardian' seriously - as seriously as he took all of his tasks and duties and responsibilities. And he would never allow a woman he considered his charge to become mistress to one of his adjutants! A terrible thought struck William then - that Clinton would most likely begin searching for a suitable husband for the girl. His time was limited as it was, he could not commit to being the girls protector for all that long. Besides, he was to leave for New York! Christ - Clinton could take Beth with him! These thoughts whirled through William's head and his expression became stormier by the moment. He was unable to voice his protests, however. He had no rights to her at all!

"You will reside with Mrs. Simms," Clinton said as though it was all settled. "She understands that I have a personal interest in your well-being and she will do her level best to encourage the right sort of suitors and to introduce you to other respectable Loyalist families so that you might make a decent match for marriage."

Tavington drew in a sharp breath, his suspicions had just been proven correct. Events were quickly slipping from his fingers and he could see no way to salvage the situation.

"As a point of fact, Miss Martin," Clinton continued. "I invited Mr. and Mrs. Simms here this evening, for they have intimated that they have an offer for you that I find myself quite approving of. Mr. Simms?" Clinton turned to the older couple.

Beth slowly shifted her wide eyed gaze from Clinton to Mr. Simms. Tavington was tense and rigid beside her but she barely noticed, she was almost in a stupor, herself.

"Yes, thank you Sir," Mr. Simms said now. "Miss Martin, my wife and I have discussed this at length. It is our hope that in your search for a husband, you might look our own son over. Arthur."

Beth was momentarily speechless. She stared at them both dumbly while Tavington raged silently at her side.

"Mr. Simms," Beth finally breathed. "Never had I thought to look so high for a husband -"

"Oh nonsense!" Mrs. Simms waved her hand. "Colonel Burwell - though he is a Patriot - is far higher in rank socially than Arthur and _he_ wished to marry you! Child - growing up on that farm has distorted your view of the world. Your family is almost as distinguished as ours on your mother's side! Your father may have been from ordinary stock but you, you have _Putman_ blood in you! I liked your mother every much."

Tavington shuffled in his seat, his face a mask of stone, but inside he seethed.

_She's my mistress! Mine! Christ, how can this be happening! Married off to one of my own Dragoons? And Clinton approves of this! She will be in Arthur's tent instead of mine! His wife, not my mistress! I cannot allow this - somehow, this must be stopped!_

He could think of no reasonable way to stop anything, however. He had no right, no say!

"But.." Beth frowned now, her thoughts awhirl with confusion. "I would not be coming to Arthur with much..."

_What are you thinking you fool!_ She berated herself. _You are already engaged to marry Harry! _Still, she was the only one in the chamber who knew this.

"More foolishness," Mrs. Simms laughed. "You have your mother's inheritance coming to you when you turn twenty - in just a few short weeks, I believe."

For William, Mrs. Simms words were like a bucket of freezing water dumped over his head. He shifted his gaze to Beth and stared with consternation.

"And Sir Henry has agreed that if your father refuses you your dowry - which he surely will - Clinton himself will match it," Mr. Simms explained. "Besides, Arthur is our _third_ born son." Mr. Simms finished as though that was all the explanation that was required.

Arthur was not the heir. Though the Simms were wealthy - very wealthy - Arthur would have to make his own way with only his inheritance - which he would not receive until Mr. Simms was gone from this world. And Beth was affluent and distinguished enough to suit their third born soldier son.

She caught William's gaze momentarily - he was tense and cold as he listened to these people discussing a marriage match between her and their son.

Stunned, Beth fell back against the chaises back. William was no less shocked. He continued to gaze at Beth intently, in a whole new light as he considered the implications. A dowry and an inheritance! William had imagined that Beth's dowry would be minimal at best, if she had one at all! And he had no concept that she had an inheritance! But here was Simms discussing both as though they were general knowledge. His next thought - the inheritance must be considerable indeed if the Simms were offering her one of their own sons to marry! Just how much was his little Beth worth?

"Indeed, I shall," Clinton advised her. "It is quite true. I am not certain who you will choose, Miss Martin. But as I told you, I have every intention of protecting you and providing for you as a proper guardian. You will be provided with a dowry to equal what your father has put aside for you."

"Sweet Lord above," Beth whispered.

"None of this needs to be settled just now," Clinton continued. "The decision will be yours. In the mean time - you will be provided a stipend to cover your expenses," he noticed how faint she looked. "Are you well, Miss Martin - would you like some water?"

_No, I need a strong whiskey. These people are mad! And William - Lord, he looks ready to chew rocks! _

"I... I am fine, Sir, thank you," Beth leaned forward again. She was engaged to Burwell and would marry him, and she needed to stop these people from making any further plans for her.

"Sir, while I am... _overwhelmed_... by your generosity, I feel I will need to resolve this with my father first. He is still very much my legal guardian and it would be wrong of me to assume he would disown me. While it might be a very... painful... discussion, I do think I need to give him the opportunity to - well... to prove us wrong! Perhaps he won't despise me, perhaps..." She trailed off weakly.

"Ah, I see you are a dutiful daughter," Clinton nodded approvingly. "Very well - we shall give him the benefit of the doubt. However, if events unfold as I believe they shall, you will remain here in Charles Town under my care."

"Do say you will consider Arthur, Miss Martin?" Mrs. Simms asked anxiously. "He is a fine lad and -"

"Oh, he is, I agree!" Beth said at once, she continued convincingly, "I did not mean to offend. I'm just very confused now. This is all so sudden. My mind is so caught up with worry over Papa that I can barely think of anything else."

"Understandable," Mr. Simms nodded his head. "This all must come as quite a shock to you. But you really must begin to consider these things. You will turn twenty very soon and when you do you will come into your inheritance. You will be a very wealthy woman in your own right, even if your father does set you adrift - he can not take your inheritance. And as Clinton said - you will still have a dowry as well. There will be many offers for your hand in marriage - I suggest you choose the most distinguished of them, MIss Martin."

"Thank you for your advice, Sir," Beth breathed. Mrs. Simms agitation had her quite perplexed a moment ago, but now she felt she finally understood. Whether her dowry came from her father or from Clinton, she would still be worth thirty-three thousand pounds. Not an inconsiderable sum - even to the wealthy Simms, it seemed! Especially for Arthur - the third born! She was tempted to ask how much Arthur's inheritance was, just so she could tease Burwell at a later date, tell him how close he had come to losing her to the Simms family!

The only part in this that puzzled her now was, why hadn't the Simms come forward with an offer for Arthur before? But of course, they had thought she was a _Patriot_, before. Now they believed she was a Loyalist and with her own personal wealth, the two combined made her a perfect match for their third born son, in their eyes.

"Now, Miss Martin," Clinton ventured with discomfort - it was impolitic to ask a woman what she was worth in regard to her dowry but he needed to know, if he was to match and provide it. "I am led to understand that Mr. Martin has set aside Fifteen thousand for each of his daughters?"

Tavington reeled with shock. Fifteen thousand! Jesus! Only five less than Eleanor - with her twenty! But Beth had an inheritance as well, he reasoned. On the other hand, Eleanor had a house in London - in a very coveted location! Then again, he didn't admire Eleanor half as much as he admired Beth, who he had become very infatuated with indeed. He still felt a warm glow from their time alone in Arthur's bed chamber.

"Yes, Sir," Beth confirmed. "But honestly - I do not expect you to provide so vast a sum! Surely my inheritance will serve me well as a dowry - many girls make decent enough marriage matches with what I will receive."

"Which is how much, if you don't mind me asking?" Clinton frowned.

Beth _did_ mind - it was personal, after all! But general knowledge even still, it was no secret how much her inheritance was worth. She suspected the Simms knew and could tell him easily enough. Still - it was quite rude.

Nevertheless, none of it mattered - none of this was going to happen! _Just play along..._

"Eighteen thousand pounds, Sir," Beth replied. "So you see - Sir, while I do appreciate your generosity, I do not feel I can expect you to provide my dowry - it is just too large a sum!"

Tavington could have kicked her. He glanced at the Simms - their smiles seemed to slip, suddenly becoming a little sickly. They could have kicked her too, William suspected.

Eighteen thousand! And her dowry - which she was refusing, the silly chit! Thirty three thousand! William decided then and there that Eleanor could keep her twenty thousand and her townhouse - it was small and cramped and the view was tolerable at best!

Eleanor could have it all - he was going to marry _Beth_! With the decision made, his fury over the Simms trying to marry Beth off to their son melted away. Nor did it bother him that Clinton had nominated himself Beth's Guardian. Tavington was very much in Clinton's favor and the Commander in Chief would have no qualms with William marrying Beth. Would probably prefer it, in fact. Who knew what other concessions the Simms had wrangled from Clinton, that the Commander was not speaking of now?

This was just the thing - William could keep Beth after all, he could salvage the situation by marrying her himself. But Beth was still protesting her need for Clinton's generosity and to recover the situation - to secure a small fortune for them, he stepped in quickly.

"Be that as it may," he said as smoothly as he could. Beth turned to him, her eyes growing wider as she listened to his advice. "I believe you should accept Sir Clinton's generous offer, Miss Martin. Your inheritance of eighteen thousand is a decent amount, I suppose," he said in an offhand manner. "But Clinton here is concerned for you - he wishes only the best for you. If you accept, you can be certain of far greater happiness."

Mrs. Simms eyes narrowed and she glared at William suspiciously. She and her husband knew instantly what he was up to! William ignored them - they were no better after all, trying to secure Beth's fortune for their son!

Clinton was startled for a moment, then his gaze became speculative. He glanced at Beth - sitting so close to Tavington - staring up at him with what the Commander finally realized was adoration. Beth Martin was quite taken with the Lieutenant Colonel, that much was clear. And judging by the defiant way his adjutant was staring at him, Clinton concluded that Tavington wanted the lass for himself.

Finally Clinton nodded once - indicating he understood and approved. William allowed a small smile to play across his lips and he relaxed his shoulders. He turned back to Beth and awaited her response - she must see the need to accept Clinton's generosity. What sort of person turns down eighteen thousand pounds when its so freely offered?

_Agree to it, silly girl!_ He felt like shaking her. _This will not be offered a second time!_

"No, I really can't -" Beth began and Tavington almost reached out to shake some sense into her. Clinton stepped in however,

"Miss Martin, it is settled. I will not take no for an answer - not now," his eyes flickered briefly toward Tavington and back again. The Simms did not see the glance. William stopped short, then breathed a sigh of relief. Clinton approved the match to the point that he would override all of Beth's protests.

Tavington realised he should not have been surprised - Clinton had always championed him - from the very start. He almost laughed aloud - the Simms did not have a fools hope in Hell of marrying Arthur to Beth now!

"Well, perhaps..." Beth said slowly.

"As I said, it is settled," Clinton spoke into the breach. "I will provide you with eighteen thousand and not a sovereign less - if your father disowns you."

Tavington smiled. Thirty three thousand pounds. They would settle in New York, he decided. As far from her family as he could possibly get her while still remaining in civilized society.

"Thank you, Sir," Beth finally murmured. Dear Lord, did she have a tale to tell to Harry!

"Your task is of utmost importance and I will not have you become poverty stricken. Your sacrifice and bravery is duly noted and you simply must be provided for."

"Thank you, Sir," Beth said again.

"You are welcome," Clinton turned to William. "I still have some items to discuss with Mr. and Mrs. Simms, Lieutenant Colonel. Perhaps you can escort Miss Martin through the gardens? It will be at least another half an hour before the band will begin again and it is such a lovely night for a walk, wouldn't you agree?"

"I do agree, Sir," William replied warmly. Rising, he offered Beth his arm. Clinton would deliberately keep the Simms back to allow Tavington time alone with Beth, to begin his courtship of her. Of course, William had been courting her for days now but even he understood that courting for a wife was a far cry different to pursuing a mistress.

Once Beth stood at his side, her arm looped through his, William turned to Mr. and Mrs. Simms and bowed to them both. Both wore equally disgruntled expressions, clearly they understood William's intention completely.

Mrs. Simms rose and embraced Beth.

"Please promise that you will consider Arthur?" She said softly. "Remember, all sorts of undesirable men will try to charm you now. And you are vulnerable without your father's protection - you will need a strong house to keep you safe."

"I promise, I will consider it," Beth lied. _This_ 'strong house' desired her for her wealth, just as any other who approached her for marriage now. Harry Burwell, she knew, was the _only_ exception! She continued a little irritably, "but it occurs to me that we have all quite forgotten that I already belong to a strong house. My Aunt Charlotte would never allow suitors of an undesirable nature to pay court to me. Nor would my Uncle Mark. I assure you, I am quite safe enough." Mrs. Simms paled slightly and Beth continued with a bright smile. "But I do thank you, Mrs. Simms."

Tavington heard the entire exchange, despite the softly spoken words. He shot a glare at Mrs. Simms over Beth's head as he began to lead her out from the cluster of chairs.

_She thinks I'm an undesirable, does she?_ He curled his lip with annoyance.

Clinton had risen also. He held both his hands out to Beth's and when she placed her fingers in his, he gave them a comforting squeeze.

"You speak truly, Miss Martin," he said. Clearly he had heard the exchange also. "And perhaps your father will prove understanding," his tone was doubtful, however. "What ever the eventuality, all will be well, child. I do not want you to worry about a thing."

"Oh, I don't think I'll worry at all!" Beth smiled, flashing Clinton her dimples and squeezing his fingers in turn. "How can I? When I have such a friend as you?"

Startled, Clinton returned her smile, thoroughly charmed by the girl. Beth had won him over entirely, Tavington was gratified to see.

"Off with you," Clinton said cheerfully. "Go and enjoy the ball, you are in good hands with Lieutenant Colonel Tavington."

"Oh, I know," Beth flashed her dimples up at Tavington now and wound her hand through his arm again.

Their relationship had altered considerably since their intimacy in Arthur's chamber. William felt a twitch in his groin and, as he gazed down at her, he decided they would _not_ be walking through the gardens when they left Clinton.

He had an entirely different destination in mind for them.

:::::::::::::


	20. Chapter 20 - Back to Arthur's Bed Chambe

**Chapter 20 - Back to Arthur's Bed Chamber**

As they strolled toward the far end of the corridor, Tavington tried to get his bearings, tried to think of the most direct route back to Arthur Simms bed chamber. The corridors were mostly empty except for the occasional guard - most of the revelers were outside or in the ballroom.

Beth's arm was linked through his and she was speaking of their meeting as he led her around a corridor and up a service stairwell. She seemed oblivious as to their direction, so incredulous over the turn of events.

"To think - the Simms family suggesting Arthur for me! I like him well enough, but honestly..!" She blushed and glanced up at him. "Especially after we... Well..."

Tavington chuckled.

Especially after he had ground his cock against her bare womanhood until they both shuddered and writhed with ecstasy - on Arthur's bed! He glanced around him, certain he knew where he was now. Slipping out of the stairwell, he led her along. They would soon be back in Arthur's room, back in the throes of pleasure. Beth continued her prattling.

"I was astonished when Clinton said he would become my Guardian. Did you know he had planned to care for me after Sunday night mission?"

"No, I was as surprised as you," he said softly. "I had planned to care for you myself."

"You had?" She raised her eyebrows up at him in surprise. He shot her a startled glance.

"Of course. I made a vow, Beth. 'Come what may', remember?"

"So you did," she smiled up at him. Tavington frowned - her smile seemed oddly sad for some reason. Before he could question it, however, she began speaking of the Simms again.

"Arthur," she tossed her head. "You notice how they offer me their _third_ son - the one who has to make his own way?" She asked in an arched tone. "I'm certain he would come with an inheritance of his own, but until then, it would be my wealth sustaining us."

"Well, that is the way of it, Beth," William scoffed.

"Yes, but it suddenly occurs to me - how many Loyalists will start clamoring for my hand in marriage now? I will not be able to trust that a single one of them holds me with any kind of affection!" Not like Harry, who loved her for herself - not her dowry and inheritance.

"Plenty, I would imagine," Tavington murmured. Jealousy speared him but he stifled it quickly. She was his, she would marry him and no other. He did not need to compete with those others, especially after he made his intentions to marry her public.

"Well I won't have them, not a single one of them," she said darkly and decisively. "I know how it works as well as you do, but it doesn't have to be that way! If I can not be certain of a man's affections then he will not secure me and that is final. And, quite frankly, I will doubt _any_ man who asks for my hand now."

William's eyes widened and he stared down at her with consternation.

"What?" Beth asked, then scoffed. "None of them showed me any interest before and now they'll be clamoring at my door? Of course I will doubt them!"

"What if one of them has wealth to bring to the marriage as well?" He ventured. "What if he is distinguished? Would you spurn a good match, just because you think he is marrying you for your wealth?"

"Dear Lord, William - you are not trying to talk me into marrying Arthur, are you? After what we did together earlier -"

"NO! Hell, no. I was merely thinking aloud," William replied. It occurred to him that his courtship of her might not go as smoothly as he had originally thought. He realized it was far too soon to discuss their own marriage, not if she would instantly believe he was after her wealth. Which he was, of course - but he _did_ care for her - far more than any future suitors could claim. He didn't doubt she would accept him above those others, but he now recognized the need to take it slowly.

"You have to marry sometime," he ventured calmly.

"Not to someone whose affections I can not be certain of," she said tartly, then she smiled and continued aloofly, "as they said back there - I will be wealthy in my own right. I can pick and choose the best of them."

"That you can," he said warmly. "And you will secure the best of them."

He was referring to himself of course, but she didn't know that.

"William, where are we?" Beth finally glanced around her surroundings, which were vaguely family. She gasped with understanding. "William! No - we can't -"

"We can," he said as he opened Arthur's bed chamber door. "No one will miss us - they will believe we are still meeting with Clinton. They will only question our whereabouts when they begin to see Mr. and Mrs. Simms appear again."

"Which could be any minute!" Beth protested, pulling back as he began to pull her forward into the room.

"Which could be half an hour," he assured her. "No one will question this, darling."

Beth gripped the door frame with her free hand, hanging half in and half out of the room.

"William Tavington, I am not going back in there!" She rasped.

"You're only going to draw attention to yourself," he reasoned and tugged on her arm to pull her in. She held tight to the door frame, however. "How will you explain being here if someone happens along, hmm? The gossips will run rampant."

"Because you led me here!" She berated half heartedly. It _would_ prove difficult to explain if someone came along - with her half hanging in the chamber, half in the hallway. She finally relinquished her hold and allowed him to pull her, laughing with triumph, into the room.

"Oh, this is funny is it?" She arched an eyebrow.

"I'm amused, even if you're not," he laughed again and drew her across the room toward the bed. "Come now, you enjoyed yourself last time we were in here."

"I did," she agreed quietly. They stopped at the bed and she eyed it shyly, blushing crimson. "You realise we will be... sitting together... on my future husband's bed?"

"Like Hell he'll be your husband," he growled. He abruptly pulled her hard against him and kissed her firmly on the mouth. She gasped and flailed her arms, then sighed and relaxed against him, her arms going winding his neck as his lips moved over hers possessively. He drew back long enough to say, in a breathless voice, "and we'll be doing more than 'sitting together', little Beth."

His lips crashed against hers again and he groaned, deeply contented.

"I think you should lock the door this time," she said softly against his lips.

"I dare say," he murmured back. He disentangled himself from her embrace and slipped by her to lock the door. Beth sat heavily on the edge of the bed, watching him. Burwell was far from her thoughts as she took in the sight of William. Everything he did was powerful, the way he moved, even the way he walked. It made her shiver just watching him.

Before long he returned to her, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. Leaning over himself, he began removing his boots. Taking her cue from him, she reached down and pulled her delicate slippers from her feet. With that done, they both straightened, side by side, and gazed at each other in the sparse candlelight.

"We don't have much time," she said finally.

"No. Shall we make the most of it?"

She nodded wordlessly and he stood again to remove his breeches.

"William..." She murmured, feeling faint. She couldn't take her eyes from the sight, however. His hands reaching up under his Redcoat, she could hear his belt being unbuckled. His fingers moved to the button of his buckskin breeches and when he shoved them down to his thighs, his erection popped forward, right before her - a mere inches from her face. She did look away then, her cheeks burnt crimson and her heart began to pound.

He chuckled darkly as he pulled his breeches from his legs and left them in a puddle on the thickly carpeted floor.

"Come with me, little innocent," he chortled. Heedless of his half nudity, he climbed back onto the bed. On his knees, he edged over to the pillows and lay back. She rose and turned to him, saw that his arms were reaching for her, beckoning. "Come here."

With shaking fingers, she drew her skirts up to her thighs and like William, she climbed up onto the bed on her knees, then edged over to the pillows and sat beside him with her legs draw up. She couldn't meet his eyes - choosing to gaze down at the shining golden buttons on his Redcoat. She was just too embarrassed to look at him, half naked as he was.

Sensing her nerves, he shuffled back up to sit beside her.

"Poor darling," he murmured, amused. His fingers toyed with a delicately placed curl and she finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Nervous, hmm?"

"You know I am, you bloody bastard."

William laughed aloud Beth finally smiled and laughed weakly.

"I'll have you know, little Beth," he whispered close to her ear. His warm breath made her sigh. "That I am quite legitimate."

"Yes, but you are a bastard all the same," she accused softly. "You enjoy making me uncomfortable."

"No - I enjoy your innocence, darling," he corrected her. "The Lord knows, there is not a lot of that during times of war."

"You've become jaded, if you think that."

"Perhaps," he leaned in close, not truly concentrating on their conversation with her so near he could smell her scent. His lips trailed slowly along her neck. Even Beth lost track of what they were speaking of. She closed her eyes and turned into him. His lips moved across hers and her body flooded with heat. Reaching up, she clutched at his arms and he pulled her closer. With a low groan, William deepened the kiss, urging her lips to part, he slid his tongue in to explore the cave of her mouth.

Beth and Tavington relaxed against the pillows, kissing softly and slowly. His hands moved up and down her back, her fingers wound around his queue and stroked his neck.

"Am I still frightful, darling?" he asked between kisses. Beth shook her head and pressed herself closer, enjoying the warmth of his body.

"No, but it worries me, how close you came to..." unable to say it, she trailed off.

His lips drifted from her lips down to her neck again, a trail of gentle kisses.

"I should not have tried to push inside you, Beth," he said against her soft skin. "I had such need for you."

"Another lapse in judgement?" She asked.

"Yes," he lifted his head and rubbed his nose against hers.

"And now?"

"Do I have a need for you?" He scoffed and glanced down to his heavy erection, long and straight and hard, only partially covered by the bottom of his Redcoat. "Yes, darling. I certainly do."

"I noticed," she licked her lips nervously, her eyes had followed his and she was staring at his shaft. Finally, she sighed and although her heart pounded and she was as nervous as Hell, she said, "tell me what to do."

A thrill shot up his spine at her words and Tavington groaned. He crashed his lips to hers, sliding his tongue back into her mouth. As their tongues circled slowly, William took hold of her hand and placed it on his bare thigh.

Beth drew back and swallowed nervously. He waited for her to gather her nerve and finally she pressed her lips to his again, and squeezed his thigh at the same time.

William slowly guided her hand higher, placing her hand beneath his Redcoat, directly on his bare cock. He hummed low in his throat as he moved her palm back and forth and in small circles, guiding her movements for a few moments before allowing her to explore on her own.

"Its so soft," she murmured. "And hard at the same time."

She continued to touch him, with her fingertips only, a very light and exploring caress. Her touch was light at first but she grew bolder, she pressed her palm against him harder and squeezed. William groaned against her mouth, it sounded pained. She released her grip and he shook his head urgently, covering her hand with his own again, urging her to push down hard.

"Please, darling, it is perfect," he whispered. He guided her palm up to press and rotate against his cock. She took over once again.

Beth could feel Tavington's heart beating wildly, he kept his kisses soft and gentle. Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck he pulled her closer, almost drawing her into his lap as he bit and nipped at her lips gently.

She drew away from him and gazed down at her hand on his cock, nibbling at her bottom lip apprehensively.

"It won't bit you, darling," Tavington smiled as he watched her. Her eyes flew to his and he kissed her and he waited patiently for her to build her nerve again. She looked down to his lap again, watching as her fingers traced his length lightly. He lowered his gaze to watch her progress. His member twitched under her touch and Beth gasped.

"It seems to have a life of its own..." she murmured as her fingers caressed the tip. William swallowed hard and his breathing quickened. When she glided her thumb and two fingers over the helmet, he sucked in a quick breath, his hand clutched at her arm.

"Ahhh..." He moaned and whispered into her hair, "wrap your fingers around it darling, I want to feel your hand around my cock."

"Cock?" She giggled nervously, her riveted on his lap.

Biting her bottom lip, she steeled herself and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. She could still see his helmet, above her closed fist, and imagined it looked purple and angry. William nodded approval and breathed out a deep sigh.

Beth, going by blind instinct now, began to stroke him slowly.

William threw his head back and growled, the tingling heat rising steadily. Breathing heavily now, he watched her fist move up and down, short tugging motions. Her hand moved higher with each tug, her fingers eventually moving over the ridge of his helmet and he thrust his hips forward with a groan.

Gaining confidence, Beth tightened her grip and tugged faster. It was fascinating, her hand moved up high enough that his helmet disappeared from sight, concealed in her fist, only to pop back into view when her hand tugged down again. His groans and the first sight of his manhood moved something deep inside her, an ache began to build between her legs, a warm throb that built steadily. She squeezed her thighs shut and squirmed, instinctively searching for relief.

Tavington was not so lost to his own pleasure, he was not oblivious to her need. Crashing his lips to hers with a harsh groan, he pulled her skirts high up her legs. He placed his hand on her thigh and began to trace her, moving his hand up and down, over her silk stockings, her garter, finally caressing her smooth skin. He trailed his fingers down again lightly, up and down, tracing higher each time.

Beth melted against him and they began to kiss again. His tongue glided across hers as his hand moved higher again. Pressing inside her thighs, he guided her legs to part.

He groaned again as Beth squeezed his cock tighter, increasing speed.

"Slow, slow, slow..." He whispered against her lips. "Slower..."

Her eyes where large as she watched his face twist with agonized pleasure. She slowed down and he began to calm. His lips parted and he hummed low, almost soundlessly. She let herself be guided by him, her hand moved in time with the rise and fall of his hips, slow and steady.

Remembering her need, Tavington moved his hand to her womanhood. His fingers caressed through the dark blonde curls. Beth sighed, enjoying the tickly sensation. Her thighs opened further of their own accord as he caressed her. His fingers tracing softly over her folds, through her curls, to the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. He did it all softly, slowly, allowing her to become accustomed to his touch.

She continued to stroke him confidently now. His breathing became ragged, he panted in her mouth, his lips still moving across hers but clumsier now, with less finesse. She barely noticed for his fingers were doing some wonderful things between her legs.

His fingers moving within her folds, and were circling, agonizingly slow, around a hard little spot she had no name for. She began to pant as raggedly as he. Before long, she began to buck against his fingers, trying to urge him to circle that wondrous spot faster. Without drawing his lips from hers he shook his head.

He would not increase the speed, he would ease her ache on his terms only.

She whimpered, a long mournful whimper and, surrendering to his greater experience, she stopped her bucking and moved slowly. He nodded wordlessly in approval.

The warm tension built steadily within her, easing her ache but increasing her need for release. Beth could think no longer - her mind simply stopped working.

Her lips were parted and lax beneath his.

William drew back to watch her, to revel in the pleasures he was showing her. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, short breaths puffed from her parted, swollen lips. She pushed her hips up against his fingers. Holding herself rigid, she clutched at his arms, her body taking on a life of its own.

The tension built as high as it could go. She moaned a long, quiet moan - the tension became white hot pleasure, starting beneath his fingers it exploded, warm and thrilling. It flooding through her body, floating her on those wonderful waves for eternity. Seconds only it lasted but Beth felt it had lasted a life time. Coming to herself, she touched her lips to his again, still moaning softly as the waves carried her.

Before too long, it ebbed and waned, fading until all that was left was a wonderful warm, relaxing glow. She began to breath again, slow, deep breaths in Williams mouth. She still clutched at his arms as thought returned to her.

"Ohhh," she murmured and swallowed. Her chest rising and falling, she drew back and stared at him with wonder. "Oh..."

He smiled down at her as he drew his hand away from between her legs. He pried her fingers loose from his arm and lowered her hand back down to his lap, to wrap around his length again.

"Oh, William!" She cried, realising she had stopped pleasuring him during the throes of her intense pleasure. "I'm so sorry..."

She wrapped her fingers around him and resumed her slow tugging.

"Thats alright darling," he murmured against her lips. "You're mind was elsewhere. I quite enjoyed watching you, I think you quite forgot I was even here..."

"Almost, dear heart, almost," she sighed at the memory of her orgasm, her body still felt light and warm. "Its just so wonderful."

"I know," William nipped her bottom lip, "I have wanted to hear you call me that for so long."

"Dear heart?" She asked with surprise but Tavington pressed his lips against hers again, moaning against the slow build up of curling tension in his groin. It did not take long before he reached that apex, the point of no return. After watching her in her throws of her climax, his own tension built steadily. He bucked his hips, encouraging her to move her hand quicker.

"Faster darling," he murmured against her lips when she ignored his prompting.

"No, dear heart."

He groaned and kissed her hard, his need becoming urgent.

"Beth, faster!" His tone held a ring of command.

"No. Call it petty revenge, if you will, but I will not go faster," her eyes were bright with mischief.

Tavington groaned and wrapped both his hands around the back of her head, pulling her in for a hard, harsh kiss. His hips thrashed up and down but still she kept her tugging slow and steady.

Finally she drew forth his climax. He gripped her hair and bit her lip as heat and fire poured through his veins. Hitting his his zenith, he keened long and low with pleasure.

His essence began to spurt out of him - hot and sticky ropes pulsing along his length. His body convulsed with each spurt and he grunted, turning slightly away from her to not soil her skirts. His seed landed safely away from her, somewhere on the coverlet.

Wrapping his arms around her, he collapsed against the pillows, pulling her down with him. As he began to calm from his climax, his tilted her head up and began to kiss her, his lips moving across hers slowly - gentle again now his urge was sated. Beth drew away and glanced at her hand quizzically - where the first of his seed at spilled before he could draw away.

"My seed..." William smiled. He looked around for something to wipe Beth's hand with. Spying a square of silk, he reached for it and cleaned her himself.

"Seed," she repeated. Then she laughed up at him. "Cock?"

"One name for it..." he smiled. "Why, what would you call it?"

"I never thought about it." She said primly.

"What of this?" he placed his fingers between her legs, within her folds again, searching for that hardened spot. When he found it, she gasped.

"Oh, no - oh!" She pushed his hand away.

"Too sensitive?" He smiled. "Your quim, darling."

"Quim?" Beth laughed again. "Seed, cock, quim! I am surely getting an education tonight."

He pulled her back into his arms. "I cannot wait until our next lesson. There are so many things I can teach you to do to my cock."

"Tsk tsk. I should was your mouth out, William," she teased. Nestling into the crook of his neck, they sobered from their pleasure.

"We will need to head back soon," he said reluctantly. Beth sighed and pressed closer to him. She threw her arm across his stomach and held him tight.

"I don't want to," she whispered. "I wish we could just stay here."

"In your husband's bed?" He jested.

"Shut it," she giggled. "Don't remind me. Lord - I have two more dances with Arthur - I won't be able to look at him! Not only because his parents want us to marry, but because I've been here - in his room - twice now!"

"Hmm, it would be a little... Uncomfortable..."

"I'll say!" She laughed again. "Of all the insane... Honestly..."

Quieting now, she laid her head against his chest and enjoyed feeling the rise and fall as he breathed steadily beneath her.

"I can hear your heart beating," she said finally. "So fast..."

"Thats because I'm with you," he said honestly.

"Hmm," she smiled and closed her eyes. Both were content to lay still, against the pillows. William stared up at the ceiling as his fingers twirled idly through her hair and of course Beth's eyes were closed as her hand rubbed up and down his chest and stomach.

After a short while, William said thickly, "lower, darling."

"Already?" She raised her head and met his eyes, then glazed down between his legs. Sure enough, his 'cock' was standing to attention once more. "Lord, I don't think I could bear being touched right now."

"Too bad," William said unsympathetically. With his arms still around her, he shifted them both until she lay on her back and he lay alongside her. With his head propped against his right hand, his left moved along her thighs, lazy circles reaching higher. Finally his fingers quested within her folds, to circle her quim.

"Perhaps I was wrong," Beth breathed. Reaching down between them, she took hold of his shaft. It was a little awkward for her, this position, she could not tug him properly. Settling for stroking him, she let him do the work of pumping his hips back and forth as he circled her quim slowly with his fingers.

Music started to play somewhere far away in the manor, the dancing had resumed in the ballroom. Time was short and they strove to bring each other to a quick but satisfying release. Before long, Beth began to buck against his fingers and this time, he circled her quim insistently. She cried out and arched her back, that wonderful explosion of pleasure flooding her body for the third time.

Tavington was right behind her. His head buried in the nook of her neck, his breath rasped as he bucked back and forth in her now tight grip. One last guttural cry and he came, he angled into the bed and his seed spurted in pulses, pooling on the coverlet.

They calmed slowly, kissing gently and unhurriedly as though they had all the time in the world.

Gradually, however, William pulled away.

"We better get back," he whispered, kissing her nose, her eyes, her cheeks, then her lips once more. "Or we will be noticed."

She nodded and by unspoken agreement, rose from the bed and began righting their clothes. William pulled on his breeches, then his boots while Beth put her slippers back on and tidied the gem encrusted net covering her hair.

"Are you ready, darling?" He asked finally and held his arm out for her to take.

"No, dear heart," she smiled. "I'd rather stay here with you as I said."

"We'll steal away again," he promised her as she took his arm. "And if not, there is always tomorrow, and the next day and the next."

And when they were married, they would have the rest of their lives with no need for secrecy.

Beth's smile faltered as reality asserted itself, came crashing down on her. Tavington had begun to lead the way from the room, he was busy unlocking the door so he did not notice her sudden, oppressive silence.

She thanked the Lord she was holding his arm for she felt certain she would have fainted. So many thoughts whirled through her head - of her coming departure, of her betrayal - even if warning Burwell had been the right thing to do, she was wracked with guilt. And then there was Harry - her fiancé. She had been unfaithful to her fiancé - had not even given him a second thought for the past half hour!

As they began to encounter other people in the corridors, Beth knew she needed to pull herself together. Tavington had begun shooting her concerned glances but he put her anxiety down to the fear that they might be discovered. He finally led her into the ballroom and she had calmed herself considerably by then.

"See?" He whispered as they began to move through the throng. "No one is the wiser."

She smiled weakly and nodded.

Colin Ferguson came forward as soon as he spied Beth. He saluted Tavington then held his arm to her with a smile - it was his turn for a dance. William did not mind. Dragoons only he had told Bordon and Colin was a Dragoon now, after all.

William had no doubt that Bordon will have bullied Beth's other suitors - and as he suspected, they would be too fearful of his wrath to come forward and claim their promised dance.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

After the third time of being spurned, Beth became suspicious. She raised herself to the tips of her toes to search for Tavington, spying him not far from her. She stalked over to confront him.

"I'm beginning to think you've scared off my other suitors, William," she said without preamble, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "I've only danced with Dragoons since dinner, all my other dance partners have spurned me."

His eyes widened with feigned innocence. "Darling, I do not know what -"

"Please do not treat me like a fool, _Sir_," she snapped, suddenly irritated. "This is the third time I've been spurned, and never mind that foolishness about being called away - a soldiers duty and what not. It has happened too many times now. I am _not_ a fool and will not be treated as such."

"Very well," William eyed her coolly. Such a temper on her! He did not want her flaring up in the ballroom in front of the other guests but he suspected that if he said the wrong thing, she would do exactly that. As it was, they were beginning to receive some strange looks, little Miss Martin with her fists on her hips, glaring up at the reputedly fierce Officer.

"Now, Stephen Flanser," she said crisply. "It was his turn and yet he does not come. Why? Because he is not a Dragoon. I don't know how you have done it, but I _have no doubt_ it is at your design."

"You're mine, Beth," he grated down at her. "I trust my Dragoons, most of them have come to realise I value you and hold you with high affection. These others, however -"

"Are none of your business!"

William's lips tightened, his irritation growing. Beth, however, was not done.

"We were _dancing_, William!" She berated him. "Only dancing. You take your jealousy too far!"

"I hope you do not expect an apology for you will not get one," he said primly.

"No, I do not expect you," she scoffed. "Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington would not apologize for a damned thing. You would not lower yourself." She folded her arms across her chest now and gazed up at him - pleased with herself. "I have another punishment for you, however."

"Oh?" His tone terse, suspicious and dangerous.

"_You_ will not be given Flanser's dance," she explained in a taunting, sing song voice. "I gave you those others before realizing your deception, but no more."

That took the wind out of his sails. He couldn't force her to dance with him! He tried to reason with her.

"There are only two more dances for the evening Beth. You do not want to miss the final dance, do you?"

"Hmm, let me see," she tapped her lips. "I promised the final dance to Private Watson over a week ago, _days_ before I met you. I do not believe he will be coming forward to claim it, however, do you?"

"I dare say," William scoffed.

"Hmm, soldiers duties no doubt keep him away," she mused mockingly. "Therefore, my evening of dancing is done. If you will excuse me -"

"Darling," he reached for her as she turned away. He dropped his voice to an amused whisper. As irritated as he was, he could not help but admire her spirit, he wondered if that was one of the things that drew him to her. They would have a very interesting marriage indeed. "Dance the final dance with me."

"No," she tilted her chin back haughtily and he rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Have you ever heard the saying 'cutting your nose off to spite your face'?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact - my father says it to me often. I am known for it, so do not think you will sway me. Now, if you will excuse me, I am _trying_ to storm away in an angry huff!" She jerked her arm from his grip and he let her go.

She heard, but chose to ignore, his quiet chuckle behind her.

"I'll meet you by the clock again, in twenty minutes, so we can watch the fireworks together," he drawled before she was out of ear shot.

She ignored him, back straight, and continued on outside. A wave of cool air washed over her - the evening had wound on, it was getting late now and the heat had finally begun to dissipate.

_Where too... _

Perhaps she should go and find Cilla or her Aunt - that will put paid to him and his fireworks. Of course, when the time came she knew she would be waiting by the clock for him, but still! Only allowing her to dance only with men of his choosing - his trusted Green Dragoons. How had he done it? He had been by her side for most of the night, except while she danced with other men - _Dragoons_...

She spied Wilkins across the way - finally spending some time with his wife, she saw. He gave her a polite nod - gone were his flirtatious smiles. She laughed at him quietly and continued on by.

She had enjoyed James Wilkins attentions, though she would not admit it to anyone else. Funnily enough, Tavington had allowed her to dance with James after dinner - though she suspected that he was soon to be one of Tavington's own Dragoons, and as such was afforded a little more trust.

Perhaps Private Watson should have become a Dragoon...

No, William would never have taken him into his ranks. He had made it clear that he could not stand the Private who had courted her before she met him. She felt sorry for Watson, though - she liked him well enough and he seemed to admire her but he was being forced to back down by her jealous lover...

_Jealous lover. _

Lord. It will all be over soon - this dream. She would leave Charles Town, marry Burwell. She did not regret marrying Harry, not in the slightest. The man was a force of safety and calm in the face of William's dangerous tornado. She needed safety and calm... All this danger and worry and fear was too much for her. Even if she was a '_brave lioness_'.

She loved William dearly, however. And they had shared pleasure tonight, he had woken something inside her.

He had made her his.

Lord, how in the world would she find the strength to leave, when the time came?

Cutting her nose off to spite her face - indeed. The music had started again and with a pang of jealousy, she wondered if William was dancing with another woman. Beth turned on her heel to march back to the ballroom - to make sure he was not dancing with another and also to inform him she had changed her mind. She would dance the final set with him after all. And then the would watch the fireworks together.

She turned on her heel and came face to face with Mary's mother, Mrs. Vera Tisdale.

"Sweet Lord!" Beth gasped with fright - she had not expected anyone to be behind her! She pressed her hand to her chest and closed her eyes, her heart pounding. "I didn't see you!"

"Oh, I am sorry, Miss Martin," Vera smiled brightly. "I'm afraid I saw you alone - finally, and ran to catch up. I've been hoping to catch you alone all evening!"

Despite the other woman's warm smile - Beth had the disconcerting feeling that she was prey, being stalked by a beautiful, black haired predator. Vera had never been particularly nice to Beth. Not outright rude, but certainly not as welcoming as she was now.

"Oh, of course Mrs. Tisdale," she said uncertainly and Vera smiled again - with triumph it seemed. She took Beth by the arm and led the way deeper into the night.


	21. Chapter 21 - The Lioness

**Chapter 21 - The Lioness**

Vera smiled triumphantly as she turned Beth away from the ballroom, where the younger woman had clearly been heading. Watching from the sides, she had seen the girls 'tiff' with Tavington, though she had not heard a word. She judged it was not particularly serious, however, as Tavington had laughed it off and walked away.

A smug smile had quirked his lips but it would be gone soon. Vera felt a thrill at the prospect. Use _her_ for a final fuck, would he? She would see his little liaison with this silly girl destroyed, here and now.

"Are you enjoying your evening, my dear?" She asked Beth now.

"Yes, quite," Beth frowned and Vera almost laughed aloud.

She had never particularly liked the young girl, had never shown her anything beyond polite curtesy - her warm tone obviously bewildered Beth. Good, she wanted the girl to be off guard.

"Hmm, as am I. I do enjoy balls. The proper ones like this one of course, not those horrible public things," Vera shuddered.

"What did you wish to speak to me of, Mrs. Tisdale? You said you've been hoping to catch me all evening."

"Yes, and you seemed to have disappeared quite a few times," she observed with wide eyed innocence. "All alone with Tavington..."

Beth swallowed, her heart began to pound with fear that she and William had been discovered. She made no protest - allowing herself to be led meekly away by the older woman.

"Over here dear," Vera said. "Lets wait until we are completely private."

"Sounds serious," Beth said in a shaky voice. Then, because she wanted some hint of what was coming, she asked, "is it about Colin and Mary?"

"Oh, its serious," Vera nodded decisively. "But no its not about Colin and Mary. Though I am hoping the young man will propose soon. You are very close with the boy, aren't you? Do you think he will?"

Beth frowned, she still had no clue of what this was about. But Vera was speaking politely enough, and she allowed herself to relax somewhat.

"Yes, we are close. And yes I believe he will propose soon. His sister Alice thinks so too, though he has not told her for certain. Will you and Mr. Tisdale approve?"

"Certainly we will! The Ferguson's... They would almost make as good as match as your own Gabriel would have made for Mary," Vera sighed with disappointment and Beth laughed.

"I think the Howard's have beaten you to it, there. Anne Howard will definitely marry Gabriel. Some day soon, I'm thinking..."

"Hmm, lucky girl..." Vera's tone was wistful, Gabriel was certainly a handsome young man. She would have enjoyed putting him through his paces, if only he had not been so bloody innocent and pure of heart! How enjoyable it would have been, riding that young man, watching his angelic face twist as he experienced his first climax.

She wondered if Tavington watched Beth's angelic face twist with hers...

Finally they, Beth and Vera, were alone. Surprisingly, now the time had come, Vera began to feel nervous. Her knees were weak and her stomach writhed. Feeling slightly faint, she led the way over to a wrought iron and wood seat, beckoning for Beth to sit beside her. There was a gravel path to their right, but Vera felt certain she would be able to hear anyone strolling. She resolved to keep her voice low, just in case.

For a moment she faltered, hesitated. What _would_ Tavington do to her, when he discovered this? He was bound to know that she was the one who revealed their affair to Beth. Perhaps she should be fearful of his wrath...

Steeling her spine, she decided that William could do nothing, not to her. She had her husbands protection and Tavington would not want their affair exposed. Her husband would expel the Dragoons from his house! Of course, if their affair was exposed thus, she would be forced to leave, also...

In any instance, William would not want his reputation tarnished and bedding a married woman in the very home he had been quartered in was a sure fire way of losing him the respect of his peers.

Besides, he had to pay for spurning her, for _using_ her. The gall of it! Second best... To _this_ little chit? Not bloody likely.

"My dear, what I have to tell you is quite distressing," Vera began and Beth's gaze became wary again. "But it simply must be done. I do hope I can rely on your discretion, too many people could be hurt if you repeat what I am about to tell you. I have no wish to hurt you," she lied, "but you are my daughter's closest friend and I simply must reveal certain things to you. To protect you, so that you do not make a hopeless, terrible mistake."

"What things?" Beth asked quietly, suddenly glad she was sitting down. "What terrible mistake?"

Vera tried to keep the smile from her face. Tried for an expression of motherly concern.

"Darling, it is about Lieutenant Colonel Tavington. I've noticed the connection between the two of you," she gave a tinkling laugh. "Who hasn't noticed? He has been so attentive of you, you must have danced with him seven times this evening, not to mention dining with him. And though no one else suspects it, I know you have stolen away to be alone with him. I think you are at serious risk of falling in love with the good Colonel."

Beth pursed her lips, this was not a conversation she wished to be having with the likes of Vera Tisdale! But the woman continued, seeming not to notice Beth's reticence.

"Nevertheless, I believe if some of his less admirable traits where exposed, you may find yourself able to judge your feelings a little clearer."

"Less admirable traits?" Beth sighed heavily, William had plenty of those... What more could Vera possibly tell her?

"Yes, dear. His propensity for... shall we say... seduction? The man seems unable to help himself," she continued as though she had not noticed Beth's sudden tension. "Yes, he is quite the ladies man - 'a man about town', if you will."

Beth stopped short, her heart began to pound. The two women turned in the seat to face one another.

"Perhaps you could elaborate," Beth suggested coolly.

"You met him what - five days ago... On Monday?"

"Correct," a very terse reply. She folded her arms across her chest defensively.

"In that time, dear, I happen to know of at least three other women, one he bedded just last night at a little tavern not far from the Assembly Hall."

Beth's face turned white and she swooned in the seat.

"Last night?" She whispered finally.

"Indeed," Vera said with false sympathy and reached out to pat Beth's hand. "Her name is Helen Shaw - she is a barmaid and has enjoyed his attentions a few times since she met him - five days ago. Oh, five days," she gasped as though only just making the connection. "That must have been the same day he met _you_!"

Beth closed her eyes and licked her lips. To believe her? She opened her eyes again, pinned Vera with a hard, considering stare.

"I assure you, I am speaking truly," Vera said, sensing the younger girl's distrust. "I questioned Miss Shaw myself."

"And why would you go to that effort?" Beth frowned. Her voice was as cold as winter snow.

"Because, darling," Vera said in an over the top voice. She annunciated each word exactly, "I am a _jealous_ mistress and I desired to know who _my_ lover's _other_ mistress's were, of course!"

Beth reeled. Jealous mistress. Her lover. Vera was bedding William. She closed her eyes and struggled to catch her breath. Vera noticed Beth's distress and continued on, pushing her advantage.

"Oh, I have not mentioned the _other_ women - there are still two more that I know of, remember?"

Beth wished she could block the hateful woman's voice from her ears.

"Linda Stokes, I believe her name is... Though I do not believe she is truly competition. She is a whore, you see," Beth's eyes flew open and Vera elaborated. "Fucks our Officer for coin."

"I think we are done here," Beth tried to rise but Vera grabbed her arm and jerked her back. Without seeming to realise it, her voice rose of its own accord and it was filled with hate and fury.

"Oh, no... We have not even scratched the surface!" She spat. "You see, exactly five nights ago - on Monday evening, William -"

Beth tensed, her eyes glittered and Vera smiled, sensing the other woman's sudden violence. Oh, yes, she had struck a cord now, speaking their lovers name so freely.

"_William_ came home with a keepsake, a lovely brown silk ribbon." Vera reached up to finger one of Beth's ribbons gently. The younger woman slapped the older's hand away.

"Ohh, touchy," she laughed viciously, thoroughly enjoying herself. "Where was I? Oh, yes. I became quite jealous, I admit. William is a wonderful lover after all, but then again - I think you know that already?" She arched an eyebrow and Beth blushed crimson. Vera felt her suspicions, that Beth had lost her virginity to William, were confirmed. Rage as she had never known coursed through her, making her reckless.

"I tried to throw the ribbon in the fire," she continued. "William became quite incensed. I am sure I could still feel the sting of his slap on my cheek the following day. He made it up to me, however, he is so incredibly clever with his tongue, wouldn't you agree?"

She searched the younger woman's face, waiting for a reaction. She saw only anger and distress - and confusion.

"What?" Beth snapped, her brows drawn down in a frown. She couldn't credit it, couldn't _believe_ it what she was being told! "What the devil are you talking about? You forgave him because he _kissed_ you? Even I have more self respect than that!"

"Ah, what a little innocent you are!" Vera laughed with glee. "He has not shown you that particular delight then. So, you have not bedded him after all?" Vera was quite pleased by the discovery.

Her victory would be _even_ more complete, if she managed to break the two apart before he had even had a chance to steal the girl's virtue.

"No I have not," again Beth rose and again she was hauled back. She growled low in her throat with frustration - Vera was bloody strong! "It's none of your damned business!"

"No, don't leave yet," Vera admonished. "There is more. Lord, with William, it seems there is _always_ more! You have not asked me why I would reveal all this to you, now, at the ball... Why would I risk such a thing? You must know our William has a temper."

"_MY WILLIAM!_" Beth leaned in close, her violence just beneath the surface. "Say his name again, I _fucking_ dare you!"

Vera recoiled, taken aback by Beth's sudden intensity. She had started this, however and she needed to see this to the end. Her victory was not yet complete.

"No, darling - not _your_ William - not _mine_ either," Vera corrected, going in for the kill. "He has a lady with a small fortune waiting for him back in England - one Miss Eleanor Price with her twenty thousand pounds."

Beth swayed. Finally - a satisfying reaction from the girl!

"He is engaged?" She asked quietly, pitifully.

"Oh yes. There is certainly an agreement between the two and he will return to her after the war," Vera continued in a mocking tone. "_Your_ William..." she laughed her tinkling laugh. "Did it not occur to you to ask him of prior attachments, before falling in love with him? You silly girl!"

Beth bristled, she balled her hands into fists and leaned forward aggressively, her face twisted with fury. "You dare mock me?"

Vera, sincerely worried for her person, shifted back and raised her arms in a placating gesture.

"All right, all right," breathing heavily, she wondered if she should be as frightened of Beth's wrath as she was of the William's. Too late, she must continue. Though she did modify her tone, in case she incited the girls rage once more. She tried to fix the girl with her gaze but Beth looked straight passed her, over Vera's shoulder at a fixed point up the path.

Very well...

"_Tavington_ came to me, two nights ago," she said - careful to not call him by his Christian name again. "You and the girls had returned from the dance. You sat in Mary's room for hours but shortly after you all retired for the evening, _he_ came to me. He was in a rage -" Vera noticed the muscles in the girls cheek twitch, but her face was otherwise set like stone.

"Over something. Damned nearly frightened my poor maid to death, with his demand that she leave so he could hasten to bed me. I thought it was simply ardor," her tone became wistful. "He is so strong. When he lifted me and pressed me against the wall I thought I would die then and there. Oh, and when he entered me..."

Beth's heart twisted, it felt like someone had speared her with a sharp hook and was trying to rip it from her chest. Up until now she had been too shocked to fully understand any of what she had been told. She understood now, however and she swayed, ready to faint or cry or... Though it was a struggle, she did her best to maintain her composure.

Vera noticed nothing of Beth's turmoil, though she took great pleasure in it earlier. She was too lost in the memory of passion.

"Yes, I thought I would die. But it took a while, he thrashed inside me for so long, and finally I _did_ die, a thousand deaths... But then he said the words no woman wishes to hear -" Vera choked up. Breathing heavily herself now, she struggled to maintain control, struggled to hold back her tears. "_'We are through, Vera.'_

"And just like that, my most extraordinary lover left me. I couldn't believe it - I thought he was joking! But no, he was quite serious. He admitted there was another woman. I asked why he would take me then, one last time - isn't it cruel? Reprehensible. He _used_ me, Miss Martin. For one last _fuck_. Because he could not have the woman he _wanted_. Do you know what I did then?"

"I'm sure your going to tell me," a terse reply.

Vera's eyes widened. The girl was ice! Where were her tears? Her hair pulling? Her screaming? Her faints? Ice - no _stone_. Unbreakable. This was not how she thought this would go, not at all!

"Yes, I'm going to tell you," she tried and failed to put the same amount of venom and contempt in her voice as earlier. Beth's frosty demeanor made it impossible. "I decided to find the woman, tell her all about Tavington's affairs. I know you are angry now, but I've done you a favor, Miss Martin. A courtesy. You see, it is not just his affairs, or the woman back in England. I am with child, also - I know it is Tavington's._._." She was pleased to see Beth's eye give a twitch and she pushed her advantage. "Yes, definitely William's. I have no doubt, for I had my courses after bedding my husband, though he does not know it."

"You are done now, I assume?" Beth asked.

Vera had no idea how the younger woman did it.

"I'm telling you your lover has been fucking other women, that _I_ am one of those others, that I am carrying his child! Yet you show not a trace of... of _anything_!"

"Oh, believe me, Mrs. Tisdale. I am quite angry enough right now. I would like nothing more than to drub you all the way back to the ballroom," she puffed an angry breath as she considered the older woman. "Well, aren't you the little whore? Tell me, have there been other lovers, or was William your first?"

"Well of course there have been others," Vera bristled with rage, "_whore_ that I am! I even wanted your angel of a brother but he was too innocent to entertain a liaison with me."

"I dare say! Common sense rather than innocence, however, played a large part there," Beth smiled insultingly. "You are sure the bastard you carry is William's?"

"Natural child, if you please!" Vera snapped. "Yes, I have no doubt."

"Ah, of course, we must be polite, mustn't we?" Beth mocked. "Show the courtesies? Even if you have fucked half the men in the Colonies."

"You dare?" Vera balled her hands into fists and leaned forward.

"You admitted it yourself!" Beth smiled and Vera wanted to slap it off her face. "Enough. You've had your revenge. It is time I was allowed mine. Turn around, Mrs. Tisdale."

Vera's face blanched. She had seen Beth looking past her shoulder but thought the younger woman was simply too distraught to meet her eyes. But no, she realised belatedly, someone had come up the path though Vera had not heard. That person was behind her now.

William? Fear writhed through her stomach, she thought she might faint. She turned slowly, and came face to face with her worst nightmare.

Not William, he would have been preferable to this.

Her husband stared down at her, his face as cold and hard as Beth's. The younger woman had seen him coming, she had watched his approach and had said nothing. _Nothing_! Vera was too afraid to feel rage, however.

"Dear heart -" Vera rose and took a step toward to her husband, to Mr. Tisdale. She cut off with a small gasp.

What..? Dazed, Vera glanced around, wondering why she was on the ground. Her eyes caught her husbands, who stood over her, looming - murderous with fury. He had struck her with the back of his hand!

"My husband," Vera pleaded quietly rubbing her stinging cheek. She swallowed and tried again. "My dear, you know that I love you. Let us go home and talk - "

"Miss Martin, please leave us," Mr. Tisdale's voice was hard as stone. "I wish to have a word alone with my wife."

Beth nodded. She rose and walked away, leaving Vera to her fate.

Mr. Tisdale stared down at his wife for a long time before speaking. When he began, she wished he had remained silent.

"I have known of your affairs for a long time now, Vera," he said coolly. "When I heard your voice, and heard what you were saying, I decided to hang back and listen. Miss Martin must have been quite wroth with you, to prompt answers from you when she knew I was standing here."

"Yes, it was cruel of her! Darling, I exaggerated and -"

"Silence!" He roared and Vera snapped her mouth shut. She had never seen him looking so enraged.

"Vera, you will not be returning to my home to discuss any of this," Mary's father continued. "I do not care where you sleep tonight. I will be seeing my lawyer first thing in the morning about setting you aside. Now that I have the proof of your affairs that I needed - I will tolerate you no longer."

"Oh no - please. Lord, my husband, please... What will become of me?"

"You should have thought of that before you spread your legs for Tavington, you fucking whore! I do not care what happens to you. You are carrying his bastard? Perhaps he will take care of you, though I doubt it. You can make your living as a camp doxy, entertaining the other Redcoats! You are detestable! I am _glad_ to be rid of you finally!" He whirled away from her, he would search for Mary, it was time to leave.

"No, no, no, no..." Vera rose unsteadily to her feet and followed after her husband, tears coursing down her face, making her white powder run. She did not even care that she was causing a scene as she pleaded with him, grabbing his arm, in an attempt to turn him to face her. He shoved her off and she found herself on the ground again, her husband simply left her there and walked away.

For what? Vera thought as she wept. For nothing. Even if Beth refuses Tavington, from this point forward... Vera's life as she knew it was ruined. Completely and utterly _ruined_!

:::::::::::::

Lieutenant _fucking_ Colonel _fucking_ William _fucking_ Tavington...

Beth raged as she began her search. Never had she used that word before, but it seemed very fitting now.

It was time to end it with William. For once and for all. He was promised to someone else. Miss Eleanor Landing.

Oh _god_..! Despair threatened to overwhelm her. She had to stop dead and lean against a large marble statue as she choked back a flood of tears.

No, _RAGE_! She growled at herself, trying to shove her anguish away. Rage - _not_ despair. There was no place for despair. _Not_ now!

Mistresses, whores, bastards, a wife already secured!

Rage. Fury. Anger. Tempest. A brave and very angry lioness, as Tavington was about to discover.

Swallowing hard, she embraced her fury and shoved back from the marble statue.

As she was already outside, she decided to search the grounds first. There were lots of guests enjoying the fresh air, mingling in groups of two or more, talking and laughing, wine goblets in their hands. Beth searched each group intently, checking for Redcoats with dark hair. As she moved further away from the manor, the groups of people became less.

Frustrated and tense, Beth whirled, about to return to the mansion when she spied three people standing near the tall trees that edged the property. They stood on the edge of the circle of light cast from a nearby lantern.

Even from this distance she recognised William easily, she had come to know his build, his militaristic stance. She hardened herself, steeled her spine.

Time to end it.

Beth had no idea what she would say, so caught up in fury. Nevertheless, a confrontation was brewing, of that there was no doubt. One thing was certain, she was no longer conflicted over her imminent departure, any confusion or doubt she may have been harboring over leaving William and marrying Harry fled.

She clenched her jaw, balled her hands into fists and, her silk skirts swishing around her legs, she closed the distance between them with determined strides.

:::::::::::::

With a small, indulgent smirk, Tavington watched Beth stomp away. The next set began but rather than ask another woman to dance, he slipped out of the ballroom in search of Richard. Spying the Captain with Miss Jutland, he quickened his stride to a trot and caught up to them easily.

"Ah, William," Richard quipped. "Nice of you to spare us some time this evening."

"Yes, I'm surprised you were able to peel yourself from Miss Martin's side," Harmony joined in the teasing.

William cringed. "Has it been that obvious?"

Richard snorted. "Christ - almost every guest here is speaking of it. It has caused quite a sensation, for it was common knowledge that Burwell was courting the girl for so long. And to have her be so thoroughly engrossed with a Redcoat Officer has definitely set tongues to wagging. Some are wondering if you will propose to the girl."

William smiled mysteriously.

"I've heard many of the younger women whispering behind their hands," Harmony said as the trio began to walk away from the ballroom, heading toward the far trees where there weren't so many people and they could speak in private. "Almost all of them seem to agree that you are by far the better catch."

"_Almost_ all of them?" Tavington arched an eyebrow and Harmony laughed.

"I think a couple of them are not so pleased with the match - it seems they had their eyes on you for themselves."

"I dare say," William smirked. "That doesn't surprise me in the least."

"I confess myself quite distressed," Harmony flirted. "You tell me I'm the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on and then don't pay me any attention all evening! You haven't danced a single dance with me!"

Bordon rolled his eyes. The two always seemed to flirt with one another but as long as they kept it to flirting, Richard did not mind too much. It pleased Richard that his Commander got along so well with his mistress. They reached the trees and stopped to continue their chat by the light of a lantern.

"Ah, alas, I've been otherwise occupied. I am certain Miss Martin will seek me soon for the final dance, when she comes to her senses."

"Oh?" Harmony was instantly intrigued. "Tell me more!"

"It seems the little dear is as clever as she is beautiful," William explained. "She saw through my attempt to keep other suitors away from her, by only having my Dragoons dance with her."

Harmony and Richard both began to laugh as William continued. "She was in quite a huff about it, declared that she would not dance another dance with me and then strode away. I give her until the finish of this set before she comes and finds me, and pleads for the final dance."

"So certain of yourself," Harmony mocked. "I hope she doesn't give in, myself. You need a lesson or two in how to treat women, I'm afraid."

"_Fiery_ women," William chuckled. "Christ, I've never met any woman with her temper. How are you enjoying the evening?" He asked, changing the subject.

He didn't want to reveal too much about his intentions for Beth just yet, not until he'd had a chance to court her properly and propose to her. Talk turned to the evening, other guests, the dinner and how fair the night was when Harmony caught sight of a woman heading toward them over Tavington's shoulder.

"Is that your Miss Martin, Colonel?" She teased. Tavington turned in the direction Harmony indicated.

"Why, yes, it is," he smiled as he watched Beth draw closer. "Too late if she has come to bed for the last dance. It is almost done."

His smile soon turned to a frown however. Beth was close enough now for him to see her rage filled expression.

"She looks none to happy, William." Richard said cautiously.

"None to happy at all," Harmony murmured. "She looks furious. Perhaps we should leave the two of you alone."

"Out here, unchaperoned?" William muttered. "As you said, people are gossiping about us as it is. What the Devil is wrong with the girl?"

Beth's eyes where fixed on Tavington as she marched purposefully toward the small group. When she stood before him, he bowed somewhat warily, as did Bordon.

"Miss Martin," Captain Bordon greeted her, giving her no choice but to acknowledge him.

Beth shot him a quick glance, bobbed a curtsy, nodded to Harmony and turned her flashing eyes back to William. She said two words only, but it was enough.

"Mrs. Tisdale." Fury clipped her tone.

William stiffened and his eyes widened with astonishment.

Too late to offer her a denial or evasion. The accusations confirmed, Beth nodded curtly, satisfied that her information was correct. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned forward intently, raising one eyebrow. She continued in the same clipped tone.

"Well?"

The Colonel drew in a sharp breath and tightened his lips. Fiery was one thing, but this?

"Nothing to say?" She snapped. "Hmm? Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington of the Green _Bloody_ Dragoons, has lost his tongue? That must be a first for you."

"Miss Martin," Tavington drawled coolly, resorting to formalities. His pale eyes turned to ice and the grip on his glass was almost crushing. "You will not speak to me in this manner. Calm yourself and we shall discuss -"

"Calm myself?" Beth cut him off furiously. Miss Jutland and Captain Bordon retreated a few steps, though they stayed within the circle of light, watching warily. "_Mrs. Tisdale!_ You and her, all this time! Ever since you billeted in their home!"

"It was nothing, Beth," he said furiously. "She meant nothing to me. She was entertaining, a diversion. _Nothing_ more."

"Truly? I feel much better about it now, thank you for clarifying that," her tone was sickly sweet. She tapped her lips as if pondering. "Hmm, but she was not the _only_ one, now, was she? In the last week? You've sought your entertainment and diversions elsewhere other than Mrs. Tisdale. I suppose Linda Stokes and Helen Shaw meant nothing to you either?"

His face grew darker by the moment, but her rage had her in its grips. Besides, she was not finished, she had one more to mention. The most important of all of them.

"And of course there is your _fiancé_, Miss Eleanor Price," she spat. "With her twenty thousand!"

"Who told of you of all this?" he leaned forward intently, poised and ready to do violence to the informant. "Hmm?"

"So," Beth ignored his question. "It's true then? A fiancé waiting patiently back home while here in the Colonies her fiancé beds four women in one week - that must be a record for you, surely? Or perhaps you are used to juggling so many women at once."

"She is not my fiancé," he lied compellingly. He had planned to write to her and end the engagement almost as soon as he had decided it was Beth that he would marry. He continued harshly, "and the others meant nothing! Who - told - you?!"

"You deny being engaged?" Beth laughed bitterly. "Of course you do. Oh, I am _certain_ your other mistresses meant nothing William. I am also certain I meant as little to you and your poor fiancé even less! Lord. How many sorts of fool am I?" She laughed again and threw her arms in the air. "Ten. No - a _hundred_." She tossed her head, her eyes glinted with disgust. "Yes, I am a fool. But you, Sir, _you_ are a bastard. A complete and utter _fucking_ bastard!"

Filled with righteous rage, Beth whirled around and stormed away. Engaged! He will be marrying! What did he want her for - a moments tryst? A romp, to sooth his ego!

Tavington's face twisted with rage, he threw his glass to the grass and before Beth managed to walk two steps away, he darted forward. His strong fingers closed around her arm in an iron grip.

"Don't touch me!" She hissed savagely and tried to twist out of his grasp.

"You will not walk away from me, Beth," he grated and gave her a hard shake. They both heard a gasp, Harmony tried to come forward but Bordon halted her.

"Oh, Richard, he will hurt her!" She cried with anguish, near to tears with fear.

"Stay out of it, Harmony," Richard said firmly.

"You're engaged!" Beth spat again, her eyes narrowed with rage. "With three other mistresses! How could you?"

"I must say, Beth, your jealousy is quite pleasing," Tavington's smile was cold and humorless.

"Jealousy? You think I am merely _jealous_!?" Beth's voice rose in pitch, it was a damned good thing that they were alone except for Richard and Harmony. "Is this _amusing_ to you? You coupled with her! While I was asleep in the room down the hall!"

"She told you herself?" He asked dangerously. The Goddamned bitch, he had known she would seek vengeance if she discovered the woman he had left her for. "I will have a few words for her tonight."

"Before or after you _fuck_ her against the wall of her bedchamber?" Beth taunted.

He lifted his chin and stared down his nose at her, quivering with fury.

"You should be aware, Sir, that Mr. Tisdale now knows of your affair also."

"You told him?" He snarled and shook her sharply again. Beth gasped but recovered herself quickly - she was becoming accustomed to his rough treatment, it was not the first time she had suffered as much from his hands. "You betrayed me?"

"Betrayed you?" She laughed.

_LAUGHED!_ Tavington's face blazed above her, he was growing more incensed by the moment.

"No, Sir. I did not tell him - I didn't need to," her tone took on a mocking edge. "He over heard Mrs. Idiot Tisdale, as she was telling me about you '_thrashing inside her until she died a thousand deaths'_," she pinned him with her cold gaze and leaned forward intently. She continued in a pointed and deliberate tone, "he heard her speak all about the _bastard_ you sired on her."

Stunned, Tavington's jaw dropped open.

Bastard? Vera was with child? He was about to deny it, there was no certainty any child she bore was his, but Beth was ruthless.

"Bastard," she informed him coolly. "She is certain it is yours as she had her courses between coupling with her husband and you. So, please, Lieutenant Colonel Tavington, allow me to be the first to congratulate you. Tell me, Sir - if it is a boy, will you name him William?" She asked with exaggerated innocence. "Oh, wait, bastards don't get their father's name do they... I suppose he won't even be a Tavington! No, _Miss_ _Price_ will have the pleasure of siring your _legitimate_ heirs!"

"Beth," his voice held so much warning, quiet and stern, cold and hard that Harmony whimpered behind him, fearful that she was about to witness Beth get the beating of her life. "You need to stop this, right now. You need to calm yourself. I am not engaged and the others meant nothing to me, least of all Vera."

"Vera!" Beth's breath caught in a hiss. "Say her name with such familiarity again and I will _slap_ you!"

Tavington barked a sudden, humorless laugh. "Oh, no, you are not jealous at all, are you?"

"See?" Beth spat, pushed beyond her limit. "Every word out of your mouth confirms it, _Sir_. You are a fucking bastard!"

"Tsk tsk, where did you learn such language? I should wash your mouth out, Beth."

She hissed with frustration and anger, this was not going at all the way she imagined it would. "I can't believe how foolish I was, to become infatuated with the likes of you -"

"The word is love Beth," he ground out. "You are in love with me, do not doubt it."

"- You're despicable, William!" She continued as though he had not interrupted her. "I should never have stolen away with you this evening!"

"We both know how much you enjoyed it," he began to taunt her. "You moaned and whimpered quite beautifully. Didn't you say 'you 'floated away on a warm and wonderful ocean'? They were your words, were they not?."

Beth stared at him, shocked to her core that he would use their lovemaking as a weapon against her now.

As quick as a flash shock turned to rage. Her face twisted with fury and before reasonable thought could stop her, she reached up her free hand and slapped his face, so hard her fingers stung and the imprint of her hand marred his cheek red.

Another gasp from Harmony.

Breathing heavily, Beth saw out of the corner of her eye, the other woman hide her face in Bordon's chest, unable to watch.

William had not been expecting the blow. His head twisted slightly from the force of it. He breathed in sharply and his eyes flashed blue fire. His fingers clenched on her arm and he struggle - Christ, how he struggled! - against the urge to return her slap. His arm was far stronger than hers, if he hit her she would be thrown the ground.

Beth gasped, finally having the sense to feel some fear.

However, the image of her laying in the dirt, weeping and broken flared in William's mind. He drew a ragged breath and loosened his painful grip, though he did not release her entirely.

"The next time you slap me, Beth, I will slap you back. And my arm is a damned sight stronger than yours," his words were delivered very softly and were all the more terrible for it.

"It is time to end this," Beth panted, unshed tears shone brightly in her eyes - she wished to flee before she broke down and cried in front of him. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "Do you understand me, William? It is _ended_, it is over. Nothing will ever happen between us again. _Never_. Go and find some other woman to plague and make wagers on!"

"I told you, the wager is done with!" Tavington snarled, tightening his grip again. He loosened his hold when he saw a flash of pain cross her face.

"How much did you bet on Mrs. Tisdale? £3?" She hissed. She jerked her arm, trying futilely to break his grip.

"Stop it, you silly girl," he grated. "I will not let you go until we have discussed this!"

"Silly girl..." Beth repeated with shock and shook her head. "You, Sir, are _not_ the person I thought you to be. I _hate_ you."

"You hate me?" His repeated contemptuously and scoffed. "Do not deceive yourself. You are _angry_ with me, but we both know you are very much in love with me. As for it being 'over between us'? No, Beth. It will _never_ be over between us."

"Why do you persist with this torment?!" She wanted to scream with frustration. "You have shown a complete lack of regard for me since the moment I met you! You are promised to some woman back in England! You rut with other women! You wager my virginity, which you almost claimed tonight! You have treated me with utter disrespect. My feelings for you have been _nothing_ more than a source of amusement for you, an entertainment! You do not care for me!"

His temper finally snapped under the weight of her accusations. Beth was jerking against his grip and breathing heavily with the effort to free herself. He opened his hand with a snap, releasing her so abruptly that she lost her balance and hit the ground with a thud. She curled her lip and stared up at him with fury.

"Colonel Buwell is in love with me, he would _never_ treat me as you do!" She spat up at him from the ground. "He is a better man than you!"

Tavington snarled. With snakelike swiftness he seized her by the throat with one hand, raised his other hand threateningly, ready to slap her.

"Oh," Beth gasped quietly with fear, unable to pull out of his iron grip. The tableau held, Beth wide eyed and waiting for the blow to land as Tavington struggled to control his fury and bloodlust. He curled his lip and pushed her back onto the grass. Rising from her abruptly, he strode away.

Beth breathed in sharply, she placed her hand over her throat where he had gripped her, stunned that he would go to such lengths. She sat up slowly.

"Oh my Lord!" Harmony, near to tears, ran to Beth to squat beside her and take her by the arm. "Here, let me help you up."

William did not get far. He stopped his march abruptly and closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. When he felt he was under control, he whirled around and strode back to her. Beth, who was standing now and clutching Harmony's arm, recoiled from him when he took hold of her other arm.

"I am not going to hurt you," he said gently. Indeed - his grip on her arm was light, it was meant to be comforting.

"You were going to, you would have slapped me!" Beth accused.

"You _did_ slap me," he reminded her with a raised eyebrow. "Come, Beth, we will calm down now and discuss this in a reasonable manner."

"No!" She snapped, still infuriated and anguished and... she was feeling so many thing just then and was in no state to calm down and discuss _anything_ in a reasonable manner!

"Just how many more women did you _roger_ while carrying on this farce with me? How many marriages have you destroyed?"

Tavington tightened his lips but chose not to answer.

"Please, stop it. Please - Miss Martin, calm down," Harmony had released Beth's arm, she was wringing her hands with fear for the young woman. Tavington terrified her sometimes, Hell, he terrified Bordon half the time! And that served to make Harmony fear Tavington all the more.

William and Beth ignored her, each holding the others eyes in a stalemate, neither would break their glare first.

Eventually Beth leaned forward, her hard voice cold and clear. "We. Are. Finished."

William raised one eyebrow as he stared down his nose at her.

"And what of Sunday?" He asked in a cool tone.

"That is a separate issue," Beth said tartly. "I will perform my duty to the Crown. But that is the last of it - beyond that, you and I are finished."

Her words sounded so final, held such conviction that William quite believed her.

"I can not believe you would let these ridiculous women come between us!" He burst out with frustration. "As for Miss Landing - yes, she is waiting, but I do not want her - how many times do I have to tell? I am not engaged? And the other two? Linda is nothing more than a doxie - and Miss Shaw a diversion! It was just _bedding_, Beth!"

"Just bedding? When you pressed her up against the wall, she thought she would die. And then you thrashed inside her for so long, she did die, a thousand deaths. Did you moan for her too, hmm?" Her rage made her reckless. Taking her cue from him, she used their lovemaking as a weapon. "Did you moan her name? '_Vera, agh... I am in agony, you drive me to madness!' "_

Her rejection and mockery unhinged him. Fury fired through his veins, his frustration shifted to bloodlust in the blink of an eye. Once again he raised his hand threateningly, ready to hit her, though this time he did not have the control to stop himself. His full arm slap across her cheek sent her reeling, stumbling back away from him. Shocked to her core, she spun back to face him only to recoil with fear. His arm was raised and ready to strike her again.

"Easy, Sir," Bordon stepped in and gripped Tavington's arm. "Remember you are far stronger and can do far more damage. She has slapped you, you slapped her back. It is done."

William glared at Beth, his breath short, quick puffs through his slightly parted lips. His body was thwart with tension. He waited until he was sure he was under control, then finally nodded at Bordon, who understood and released William's arm.

Beth's cheek glowed red from his slap, he wondered if his cheek was just as bright from hers. He strode toward her and while she took a hesitant step back, she managed to hold his gaze. She folded her arms across her chest and raised her chin haughtily, daring him to do his worst.

"You are wrong about so many things," he said quietly. He raised his hand slowly, unthreateningly, to trace her bright red cheek. His thumb wiped her tears - he wondered if she was even aware that she was crying. By her challenging stance, he thought not. He continued gently, "you are wrong about my feelings for you, for one. And it is not over with us." His quiet tone took on a dangerous, warning edge. "Not by a long shot. I will pursue you to the end of your days."

Beth held herself still. She did not recoil from his touch, even when he reached up his other hand to loosely finger one of her curled braids. She refused to be intimidated.

"Why?" She asked, calm now but confused. "It makes no sense! All you've done over the last week. The women, the way you've treated me! Why would you continue with this! It needs to end, now!"

"I have told you, you are mine," he shrugged. "You even said so yourself. You are mine and I have plans for us, Beth."

"_Plans_?" She said incredulously. "This is madness," she tossed her head and swatted his hands away. "Utterly ridiculous. Pursue me as you will, Sir. But I will have no more of you."

She turned on her heel and marched away.

By the time she reached the manor, all of the revelers were making their way outside, the fireworks were about to start. There were too many people for her to wind through, it would take too long for her to find her family. She stood on the outskirts of the large body of people and watched as the first colorful sparks filled the sky, accompanied by their loud 'booms'.

_To think, I've been looking forward to this part most of all, all week,_ she thought, choking back a despairing sob.

She became aware of Tavington stepping up close to her, though she did not glance at him. The two stood side by side close enough to touch, equally tense and rigid. Their faces turned up to the sky, neither of them smiling or exclaiming over the fireworks. It was a sharp contrast to the other revelers, who 'oohed' and 'aahed' and clapped their hands with delight.

When it was over Beth strode away from Tavington to search for her family, unaware that his gaze followed her until she was lost to his sight.


	22. Chapter 22 - Saturday

**Chapter 22 - Saturday**

Face down and completely naked, Tavington lay sprawled across the bed, with one arm draped over the side, his fingers almost touching the floor. His head pounded, a dull _throb, throb, throb_ that he knew would be with him the entire day. A horrible taste in his mouth - thick and stale, he had drunk too much whiskey. He opened his eyes then snapped them shut against the sun blazing through the window.

The warm body that lay alongside him turned over and an arm was draped over his back.

_Linda,_ he thought groggily. Memory began to return to him of the previous night. After his altercation with Beth, after he had watched her walk away from him when the fireworks had finished, he had gathered up Bordon, Harmony, Wilkins and a few other boys and they had spent the rest of the night carousing.

They stumbled from tavern to tavern until they finally came to the final one where they stayed for the remainder of the evening. The Cloak of Arms - where Harmony usually worked. Though last night - or was it that morning..? She had been a patron of the tavern rather than a barmaid. She had drunk right along with the Officers, played cards and bloody won most of William's coins. Most of this was done sitting in Bordon's lap, which had looked awkward to William but Richard did not seem to mind.

The Cloak of Arms - such a fancy name for an establishment of middling quality - was also where Linda plied her trade. She had been there, standing behind William while he played cards, with her arms draped over his shoulders, her hands wandering his chest.

_She's the bloody reason I lost my money to Miss Jutland, _Tavington thought. He remembered Linda's hands dipping lower, up under his Redcoat, to urge some life into his semi hard member. He hadn't thought he'd have it in him, after climaxing three times with Beth only a few hours earlier but his cock had a mind of its own and before long it was standing to attention. Linda had continued her lazy fondling of him, under his jacket and under the table away from sight of the others - but they all knew what she was doing. She was a whore, after all. What else would her hand be doing under his jacket, under the table?

He had been too crocked to care at that point. The cards in his hand kept blurring, he had to squint to see them. And of course, being as soused as he was, he had failed to keep his poker face on when he received a good hand. Instead he crowed with delight and boasted.

_Now _**_thats_**_ the bloody reason I lost my money to Miss Jutland! _He remembered Harmony clearly now - her blue eyes bright and teasing, flirting across the table with the boys from Bordon's lap. But those blue eyes had been like an eagle and she had been watching their faces carefully. She had laughed aloud at one point, when William gave his hand away with a satisfied 'whoop!'

It had been a down hill slide from there, and not just for him. The other lads were just as boisterous, Harmony had easily won their coin as well, while she giggled in Richard's ear all the while. William heard her at one point, boasting to Richard that "the boys are so soused, they'll have not a sovereign left when I'm done!"

And Richard had laughed - _laughed_! Honestly, what was the world coming to when he, Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington, had to resort to asking his Captain's mistress for a loan of a few guineas, so he can pay for a whore?

A groan sounded from the bed beside him. Startled, Tavington opened his eyes again to see who else had shared the chamber with them. Even though his Captain's back was to him, William recognised him at once. Laying on his side - no doubt with Harmony curled against him on the other side. Sure enough, William was now able to hear her soft snores.

William shook his head - what a missed opportunity! He had been attracted to Harmony from the start and although she was hands off now - thanks to Richard - he still imagined her riding him all the way to Heaven.

_Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!_

"Agh!" Tavington groaned. He shut his eyes again and dragged the pillow over his head, buried his face in the mattress. Maybe they'll go away... Maybe...

_Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!_

"Agh!" He growled and threw the thin blanket off him. Rising, he crossed the room naked and threw open the door, ready to do murder to the person who dared to wake him.

He came face to face with young Arthur Simms.

_Perhaps I'll murder him anyway._

Tavington scowled at the young Officer, who stared wide eyed, trying to keep his gaze at eye level - not straying lower to William's nudity.

"What do you want?" William growled harshly at the young man whose parents wanted to marry off to Beth.

"Ah, Sir," Arthur stuttered, nervous of the Officer's temper. "I'm heading back to the mansion to freshen up - I've left my uniform there too. But I'll meet you at the Assembly Hall in an hour."

"What the Devil for?" William snapped.

"Ah... You said we were scouting today and..." Arthur swayed and took a step back, William realised the young man was still very much crocked even now.

**_This_**_ boy is going to marry Beth? _He thought snidely. _Can't even handle his liquor._

"Will you be able to sit in your saddle or will we need to tie you on?" Tavington mocked.

"No Sir, I'll be fine... Right as..." He gulped and shut his eyes - William thought he looked ready to vomit. "Right as rain..."

"I dare say," William heaved a sigh. "Very well - one hour. Tell the others."

"Yes, Sir," Arthur saluted and stumbled away down the corridor.

Tavington turned back into the room and stopped short, his eyes meeting Harmony's. She had raised herself to one elbow to see what the fuss was but when their gazes met, she blushed crimson and dropped back beside the still sleeping Richard. The covers were drawn tightly about her, all the was to her face.

William frowned. She had seen him naked before - had even commented that his manhood was larger than Richard's. Now she was bashful and shy?

"Oh, I see," William chuckled. Richard was sleeping - Harmony only ever flirted and played up to William when Richard was present. And right now, Richard was still snoring up a storm. "So, I take it you will be faithful to Bordon then?"

"Of course I will be," came the muffled, puzzled reply. "Why would you think I wouldn't be?"

"Oh, I don't know - all that flirting and teasing, perhaps?" William mocked her as he sat on the edge of his bed. Linda was beginning to stir now, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"How the Hell could they sleep through all that banging on the door?" He muttered as he began to search for his clothes.

"All that liquor last night?" Harmony replied. "You owe me eight Sovereigns."

"Eight!" William frowned down at her but her face was still buried while he pulled on his breeches.

"Yes, eight. You were with Mariah last night too - you have to pay her."

"Jesus," he muttered. He pulled his shirt over his head and settled it around his hips. "You can look now."

Harmony flipped the blanket from her face and rolled onto her back.

"That was some night, huh?" She ventured carefully. "You were pretty worked up."

"Indeed I was," William ground out. "Have you got a comb?"

Harmony pointed to her pockets - the large pockets that all women generally wore tied about their waists under their skirts. Harmony's were draped over a chair. Tavington quirked an eyebrow, it was considered bad form indeed to go through a woman's pockets! And so he passed them to her instead, she could fetch him the comb. He'd happily put his hands up a woman's skirts, but put a hand in her pockets? Never.

Before long, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, combing out his shoulder length hair. Linda sat up, reclined against the pillows, watching him. Harmony watched him too, William knew she was waiting for him to speak of his altercation with Beth. And while he thought he could possibly bring himself to confide in Harmony, he certainly would not do so in front of Linda.

"Have you calmed down now?" Harmony prompted.

"Somewhat," he said shortly.

_"Colonel Burwell is in love with me, he is a better man that you!"_

Tavington's face darkened as he began to brood.

Beth's words had rang in his ears for most of the night, no matter how much he drank. Even when he was rutting Mariah and then Linda a short while later - memories of Beth consumed him. Memories of her defying him, challenging him, _rejecting_ him urged his fury on to new heights. It was a shock he had managed to get any sleep at all with her buried deep inside his head.

_"We. Are. Finished." _

And to mock him! Right there, before Harmony and Richard, she had mocked him, imitating Vera _fucking_ Tisdale's moans. He imagined he could still feel the sting in his hand from slapping her across the face, he had not pulled the blow when he had struck her. And he had been so incensed he had been about to slap her again - it was only Richard's intervention that stopped him.

He remembered wiping her tears with his thumb, she hadn't even realised she was crying.

_"Pursue me as you will, Sir. But I will have no more of you."_

_How wrong you are, my Little Beth._

"And now you owe me a comb," Harmony said softly, her eyes focused on his lap. Tavington followed her gaze and saw, to his surprise, that Harmony's bone wrought comb was snapped in three pieces and his hand was bleeding.

One of the jagged bone pieces of the comb was embedded deep in his palm.

"Sir!" Linda gasped. She rose and pulled a night robe around herself to cover her nudity, then fetched a scrap of linen while William pulled the jagged edge from his bleeding palm.

Drawing a ragged breath, he struggled to calm himself, to push thoughts of Beth away, though it was hard - so very hard.

Linda wiped the blood away and inspected the wound.

"You might need stitches," she said quietly.

"Just wrap it," William commanded coldly. "I'll have it seen to later."

Harmony was pulling her shift on but still she did not rise.

"You are too angry still," she observed. "I hope you aren't planning on visiting her today."

Linda frowned and shot Harmony a glance, wondering who this 'her' was that the other woman was speaking about. She glanced back at William and almost recoiled - his face was dark with fury. His pale eyes flashed and he stared at nothing as though lost in his brooding.

"I won't," he said finally. "We both need to calm."

He stood up, suddenly brisk and jerked on his boots. His Redcoat came next, Linda watched him from where she still knelt on the floor. He pulled back his hair, tied it back then wrapped his cravat around his neck. He stopped and turned to consider Bordon.

"Just how much did he drink last night?"

"Too much," Harmony smiled and stroked Richard's face. She leaned down to whisper, "dear heart, wake up."

The words sliced through Tavington like a saber cut. Beth had finally called him "dear heart" last night, the endearment most Colonials from the Santee area used for their loved ones. Harmony whispered it now, to her loved one, was like salt being poured on an open wound.

With a scowl, William raised his leg, placed his boot on Bordon's rump over the blanket, and gave him an ungentle push.

"Get up," he growled as Bordon startled awake. "We've got work to do."

"Jesus," Richard moaned thickly. William turned from him and his eyes met Linda's. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a handful of sovereigns and tossed them down at her.

"Half of those are for Mariah," he ground out. "Make certain she gets them."

He turned for her and grabbed up his sword belt and saber, ignoring the hurt expression on her pretty face.

::::::::::::::::::::

Gabriel could hear the ruckus from his tent, men calling to each other with excitement that a peddler had arrived. With a huge smile, he drew his Bluecoat across his shoulders and donned his hat. He was already mostly dressed but the formalities had to be observed at all times. He darted out of the tent and joined his fellow Continentals as they made their way to the peddler's wagon.

His friends were checking their pockets for coins but Gabriel didn't bother. It was not the peddler's wares that drew the young Corporal, it was the merchant's _daughter_ that most interested him. As he approached, he saw instantly that Anne Howard had accompanied her father again, as she so often did. She was standing on her toes searching for Gabriel while pretending not to care. The youth smiled - she was facing the wrong way, and he was able to sneak up behind her.

He placed his hands over her eyes from behind and leaned into her ear.

"Guess who?" He whispered. Anne shivered, her breath caught and she melted back against his chest.

"Oh, I don't know, some irritating lump with no manners at all, I'm suspecting," she quipped. Gabriel laughed and drew his hands away. Anne turned to face him and the two stood gazing at each other with equally stupid, vapid smiles on their faces.

After soaking in the sight of her for almost a full minute, Gabriel finally drew his eyes away from hers, seeing if her father had noticed. He - Peter Howard - was busy selling whiskey and other items from his cart to the many soldiers. Taking the opportunity the Dear Lord had sought to provide him, Gabriel gripped Anne's hand and dragged her away.

"Come, quickly," he laughed. Anne shot a nervous glance over at her father, but Gabriel gripped her hand so tightly, was pulling her away so insistently, she really could not resist or protest in anyway. Quite uncouth of him, really. With a giggle she trotted along until Gabriel rounded a large oak. There, away from the prying eyes of his comrades, he pressed Anne against the tree trunk and gazed down at her again.

"Uncouth," Anne accused him breathlessly. His smile broadened and he reached up to stroke her face tenderly. Eventually she became impatient and arched an eyebrow at him. "Its a surprise any of you get anything done around here at all, you take so long!"

His smile turned to a frown and she laughed, "Well? Aren't you going to kiss me?"

Gabriel laughed aloud, finally understanding.

"Yes, I think I will," he leaned down to her, his lips almost brushing hers. "Anything to soften that razor sharp tongue of yours."

She gasped at his comment but before she could chastise him, his tongue was sliding into her mouth, indeed softening hers with gentle caresses. With a sigh, she draped her arms over his shoulders and melted against him.

The kissing went on for some time - for as long as the steady stream of customers purchased from the back of Peter Howard's wagon only a few yards away.

:::

"What do you have for me, Mr. Howard?" Burwell asked Peter when they were in the Colonel's tent. Mr. Howard dropped all pretense of poor hearing. He usually carried an ear horn and pretended he could not hear a thing without it. As a result, people became less guarded, spoke more freely with each other around him.

Redcoats especially.

Howard was unique to Burwell - the perfect spy. He was fervently Patriot and dedicated to the Cause, and could enter Redcoat camps with his wagons and carts to sell wares and gather information. The spies within the Redcoat ranks often passed their information on to Peter when he visited and the merchant did his level best to pass the information along to Burwell.

"The Redcoats in Pembroke - they've been speaking of that Tarleton fellow - word is, Cornwallis is going to demand his return from New York soon by all accounts. The Lord General wants Tarleton so he can begin an aggressive push along the Santee. Recruit more Loyalists to their ranks, while he's at it."

"Hmm," Burwell mused. "Gates will need to be told. I'll send word to Putman asking if he can discover any more details - the last thing we need now is to strike Camden with Tarleton here with his Raiders. Its bad enough that Clinton has sent the rest of Tarleton's Legion out from Charles Town to join with Cornwallis."

"When is Gates going to attack?" Peter grumbled. "Whats he waiting for?"

"Washington is sending down a detachment of infantry, with cavalry and cannons. We need to be resupplied as well, before we can attack."

"Sounds like a he couldn't organise a piss up in a tavern," Peter muttered. "I've never had any faith in Gates, and never mind that 'Hero of Saratoga' rot."

Burwell decided to ignore the remark, which edged perilously close to treason. Howard had prior experience serving with Gates years earlier, before Howard was wounded so badly that he lost his leg and was discharged from the army.

"We are in position," he said instead. "All of the units - however we need to wait for a few more things to fall into place. It is worrisome about Tarleton, though. I'd already heard he was leaving New York soon and I'd like the strike to be over and done with, and Camden to be ours, before he arrives - and before Tavington leaves Charles Town with the British Legion. I am certain that our reinforcements will be here well before then."

"We wouldn't have needed reinforcements if Tarleton's Legion hadn't of shown up," Major Bryant muttered. He was sitting in a corner of the tent, reading reports and writing in his diary.

"Indeed," Burwell murmured. "We can not ignore some five hundred extra troops, however."

"Have you heard any gossip regarding the Simms family?" Bryant asked Howard. The Major was desperate for the return on his Officer son, along with some other Continentals that Cornwallis had taken captive.

Burwell tightened his lips with irritation - hearing of the Simms caused that reaction. He had received a letter from Mark Putman earlier that morning, informing him that Beth had been _deigned_ with an audience with Clinton - who told her he would be her Guardian from that point forth. And that the Simms family had all but promised Beth their son Arthur in marriage.

_She's my damned fiancé! _He thought with a silent growl. Of course, the engagement was secret for now - he could not even tell Peter Howard, who was a close personal friend of his and the Martin family combined. It seemed likely that Anne would marry Beth's brother, Gabriel - bringing the families even closer. But still Burwell said nothing. He tried to relax, breathing steadily to keep the fury at bay.

She was his, they would announce their engagement, just as soon as she bloody left bloody Charles Town.

"No, I've not heard a thing about the Simms," Howard replied with a curious glance at Harry. The Colonel was clearly brooding now, though Howard had no idea why. "You'll have to get information from within Charles Town itself - from Mark Putman, I'm guessing."

"How are Faye, Anne and the boys?" Burwell asked Howard now.

"Good, good," Peter replied. "George is well - though he's not happy he can't join the army."

"I'd take him if I could," Harry replied. "But its just too dangerous."

"I know," Peter said gravely. George, Peter's son, had suffered a devastating accident when he was younger, when he lost control of the horse he he had been riding. The horse had been too big for the youth and he had been thrown. The accident had cost the lad his left hand. He could not ride a horse and wield a saber or pistol at the same time and therefore, he could not join the army.

"What of young Gabriel - has he proposed yet?" Burwell smiled indulgently.

"Alas no - I'm not certain what its going to take. The lad can fight like a warrior on the battlefield and can't drum up the courage to propose?" Howard scoffed. "They think I don't know it, but the two of them are hiding behind an oak, kissing, as we speak. Perhaps I should get my old musket out and tell him if he doesn't marry her, I'll shoot him!"

"Wedding at musket point!" Bryant forgot his worry enough to laugh. "I've been to a few of those!"

"Yes - _your own_, for a start!" Peter quipped and the men laughed again.

"Agh, give him time," Burwell advised with a wave of his hand. "He's a good lad, he'll get there in the end. He's had a lot on his mind, with the coming attack and all."

"Yes, I know," Peter was still chuckling. "And now my Anne is taking his mind off it all! Ah, the youthful bliss of ignorance."

"Here, here," Burwell replied.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was early Saturday evening when the postal rider trotted his horse up the lane at Fresh Water Plantation. As excitable as ever, Thomas ran down the stairs inside, clearing the last five in one leap to get out the door in time to meet the rider.

"Thomas!" Benjamin shouted in admonishment from the parlor. He folded his paper and muttered, "he'll break your fool neck one day!"

Rising from the old, comfortable single chair, he placed his arm back around himself to rub his lower back. He'd worked in the fields for most of the day, harvesting some of the tobacco. At forty-five years of age, Benjamin felt himself too young to admit his body just was not up to heavy labour. The fact was, he spent too much time in the barn at his carpentry and was not using the muscles he used to.

Voices came from outside - Thomas greeting the courier. His younger brothers had joined him on the porch and all of them were chatting excitedly. With a heavy sigh, Benjamin strode from the parlor, into the foyer and out the front door onto the porch.

The courier was a young man wearing nondescript clothing - but that did not mean anything. Most of Colonel Harry Burwell's letters came from such men - Continentals wearing casual leathers and woolens. That was not the case this time, however. The courier had come from Charles Town and bore letters from Mark, Beth and Charlotte.

Benjamin took the packet - several broadsheets were folded beneath the string as well which interested the former Captain. _The Continental News_ - though full of propaganda, would keep him updated with the war effort until he received his next letter from Burwell. Though admittedly, Harry's letters contradicted what was written in the broadsheets, more often than not.

After thanking the courier and offering him a bite to eat - which the young man refused - Benjamin turned back into the house and resumed his seat in the parlor. His sons piled in after him, as he knew they would. Nonchalantly, as though he did not care about the letters one bit, Benjamin tossed the packet on a nearby table stand. It amused him no end, doing this to his sons. They thirsted for news of the outside world, were always so eager and impatient when correspondence arrived.

True to form, the boys glanced at each other uncertainty, each daring the other silently to open the packet or at least ask their father to do so. Thomas damned near twitched his fingers toward it before glancing at his father who gave him "the look" before he snatched his hand back again.

Benjamin stifled a quiet chuckle. The truth was, he was as eager for news as they were, he merely hid it a hell of a lot better.

"Its evening, isn't it?" He asked them finally.

"Yes, Sir," Thomas said. "I believe it is."

"Well, what are you waiting for? We always open the correspondence in the evenings."

Thomas let out a whoop and ripped into the packet. There were at least seven envelopes within the packet - it was not only Charlotte, Beth and Mark writing it seemed. Thomas even had a letter of his own - addressed to him and everything, from Colin Ferguson.

_Bless that boy, _Benjamin thought fondly. Colin was Beth's friend first and foremost but he sympathized with her brothers, 'wiling away on that farm', and often sent them letters. Thomas sat down to read his as Nathan handed Benjamin the others. He began reading them to himself as the rest of his family - including Abigale - ventured into the parlor. Abigale would want news of her daughter Mila - and thankfully, when he reached Beth's letter, he was able to provide her with some.

"Mila is doing fine, Beth says," he said aloud as Abigale sat next to Margaret on the couch. Susan sat cross legged on the floor and curled her feet beneath her. "She still likes that fellow, Zeke."

"Zeke is a slave," Abigale said softly. "I shan't be letting her marry a slave."

"Zeke is _Mark Putman's_ slave," Benjamin corrected. "It might not be such a bad life - Mark is a good master and Mila would be in Charles Town."

"Mila would be in Charles Town - and married to a slave," Abigale shook her head. "Which means she would be a slave herself, really."

Benjamin hefted a sigh - it was true enough, he knew. Why Mark kept slaves was beyond the progressive Benjamin Martin. It was the only real bone of contention between the brother in laws. That and Mark's insistence inn helping to drive this damned war by playing spy master for Colonel Burwell.

"What else, father?" Margaret asked eagerly. Being a young woman, Margaret always liked Beth's letters best - her older sister always provided Margaret with the best news and the right amount gossip.

"Ah - you'll like this - Colin has proposed to Miss Tisdale!" He said.

"Oh, we'll be going to Charles Town, won't we? For the wedding?" Margaret was almost clapping her hands with excitement and the other children were just as eager.

"Perhaps," Benjamin said softly, knowing fully well they would not be attending. It was nothing against Colin - or against Mary either, despite her family hosting so many Redcoats. It was the war itself that would prevent them from attending. Under no circumstances would Benjamin take his children along the roads to visit Charles Town now - who knew when a battle would take place or if they could trust the British enough to allow them to pass unmolested? No, they would not be going, but he would not spoil his children's excitement.

His own good mood began to flee when he turned his attention to Beth's letter.

"What is it father?" Margaret asked eventually in a subdued voice. She had noticed her father frown, his face turning dark as he read.

"It seems Beth has run afoul of that Tavington," Benjamin said worriedly. "The good news is, she has decided to marry Colonel Burwell," he told them and was again met with excitement. He was not certain how he felt about it, himself. Harry was like a brother to him - a brother in arms - but he had already lost his son to the Colonel. Corporal Gabriel Martin, who had been serving these last four years. He was alive and well, for now, but he might as well be lost to Benjamin. He hadn't seen his son for many months now. As for Beth and Harry... It was a good match, to be sure. And Benjamin trusted Harry to treat Beth with love and respect. But Beth - his firstborn daughter - had been gone from him for four years also. And now she was to marry and she would leave her father again. She'd reside in the army camp with her husband and her brother.

The prospect was not pleasing to Benjamin, not one bit. Still, she had to marry eventually - she would be twenty years old soon and many of her friends were already married or would be taking their vows soon. It was the best thing for her, though Benjamin had to force himself to admit it.

His little girl was getting married.

His other children were speaking excitedly about Beth's wedding now, with even more enthusiasm than they had spoken of Mary and Colin's.

"You'll let us attend her wedding, won't you father?" Margaret asked desperately. "I can't miss my own sisters wedding! She promised me I'd be a bridesmaid and that Susan would be flower girl!"

"Settle down," Benjamin murmured. "Beth is coming home."

He had to cover his ears - Margaret's sudden squeal shot through him, piercing his skull and making him cringe.

"When!" She bounced on her chair before him. Susan wore a large smile also, though she was as quiet as ever. "Oh, when?!"

"Very soon," Benjamin told them. He folded the letter and glanced around at his family, holding Abigale's eyes. "As I said, she has run afoul of that Tavington. It seems he has roped her into performing a task for the Crown, one which she can not avoid. Once that is done, however, your Aunt Charlotte will be removing her from Charles Town. Hopefully she will be home in the next week or two."

"What is the task?" Thomas frowned.

The boy was obsessed with the military - he did not even care which side - not truly. He seemed just as impressed with the Redcoats that had passed along the road as he had been with the Bluecoat Continentals. The Continentals and Patriots did hold Thomas' allegiance, but he was still easily impressed by both. Why, Benjamin had caught the boy trying on Benjamin's old Redcoat uniform, which had been packed away for over twenty years! The boy had been standing before the large stand mirror, in Ben's room. The uniform had been baggy but in another year or two, Thomas would probably fill it out quite well. Not that Benjamin would allow him to wear it - he'd burn the damned thing first.

"She was rather vague on the details," he said evasively. He would not tell his children the entire truth, that Beth was being forced to betray the Cause. She explained that she had managed to send a warning to Burwell and everything would be fine, but that Clinton - Sir Henry Clinton - Commander in Chief of the entire British Campaign here in the Colonies, had told Beth he would be her legal Guardian and would provide her dowry. Clinton believed that Benjamin would disown his daughter and was determined to protect her and find her a husband.

"Though it seems she has the Commander in Chief wrapped around her finger," he said wryly. His children - and Abigale - glanced at him in askance but he waved the comment away. "Everything is in hand, it seems. She has written that Burwell wrote to her, advised her to play along for now, until she is able to leave Charles Town with Aunt Charlotte. I've still to read Charlotte's and Uncle Mark's letters, but I am certain they will have the same information for us."

He was quite correct, though Mark went into a much deeper account, outlining his concerns and fears. Benjamin did not share those worries with his children though his own anxiety was beginning to mount. Trying to reason that Beth was in no real danger, nothing immediate or life threatening in any case.

"Now - you all need to remember that Beth's engagement to Burwell is a secret one for now," he told his brood. "No speaking of it to ANYONE outside this family, understood?"

The youths nodded gravely and vowed not to say a word.

"It sounds like dinner is ready," he told them - he could hear Old Mrs. Smythe in the kitchen, banging pots and calling to her kitchen hands to begin serving. "Lets go through."

He went through the motions for his children's sake but in his heart, he knew he would not be happy until Beth was home, safe and sound, where she belonged.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Mrs. Caroline Simms had positioned her chair before the large bank of windows in the large, airy parlor.

The sunset was extraordinary to say the least, she watched it as she sipped her cup of tea. The sky and clouds were on fire - glorious pinks and oranges, purples and blues. The sun itself was a brilliant white globe that was fast dipping down toward the horizon - a perfect and bright sphere she could not look at for more than a few seconds.

The light in the room was dimming quickly and servants moved about, lighting candles. Caroline barely noticed them as she gazed out the window. It helped to calm her, the beautiful sunset.

The night before had been a wonderful success in more ways than one. She had invited all of Charles Town's elite to the ball and the night had gone without a hitch. Everything was utter perfection, equal to that of any ball she had attended in London! Clinton had been full of praise.

Such a lovely man, Sir Henry Clinton. Mrs. Simms sipped her tea and placed it on the saucer with barely a clink. The sun dipped lower - it would disappear entirely soon. She let her thoughts wander, tried not to think about what was truly bothering her.

Even the fireworks - they had been spectacular. Better than anything the Middleton's had put on before! The band had been wonderful - so much dancing! Caroline had danced several times - with Clinton and a few of his adjutants. Her own husband danced with her twice - the two had been in a content mood indeed. Not only because of how wonderful their event had progressed, but also because of Miss Beth Martin.

Mrs. Simms took another sip of her tea, again placing it on the saucer. The sun was almost gone now but the sky was still on fire. Yes, Miss Beth Martin. And her thirty-three thousand. Caroline had considered Beth for her Arthur several times, but she had dismissed the girl because of her father - Mr. Benjamin Martin. A Patriot who had constantly argued with Mr. Simms at each and every Assembly meeting. There were other reasons that made Beth unsuitable to Mrs. Simms but Benjamin Martin was at the core of all of them.

But now Miss Martin was soon to be outside of her father's control - Clinton had declared himself her guardian and was prepared to provide her dowry. This meant that not only was Beth's wealth fully intact, but Caroline would never have to deal with Benjamin Martin if the girl married into her family.

It would also mean she, Caroline, would not have to look to the Middleton's for a match for Arthur. Of course, Rebecca Middleton would have made a decent enough choice and her branch of the family _were_ Loyalist, but they were still _Middletons_! The two leading families did not get along in the least, marriage connections between the two were few and far between.

She could have looked to Mr. Mark Putman - his Cilla would come with a decent enough dowry but she would have to wait for one of her parents to die before she could claim an inheritance. Besides, until recently, Putman had been as Patriot as Benjamin Martin! Caroline curled her lip, her irritation asserting itself.

At least Loyalists had gone into hiding when the Continentals were in charge of Charles Town, none of _them_ changed allegiance! But here were the Putman's courting Tavington as much as the Simms courted Clinton! Caroline knew Putman was bandying up to the high ranking Officer - she had her eyes and ears out there, watching and reporting back to her.

Tavington. Now there was a problem. Caroline had seen it in the man's eyes, the moment he had decided to court Beth for marriage himself. She had seen him - as soon as it became apparent how wealthy the girl was. Prior to that, he seemed content to flirt with the girl, but Mrs. Simms doubted her would have married her. Now however...

It was a very real possibility - judging by what Caroline had observed later on that night. The two had seemed inseparable and she had begun to despair that perhaps Tavington had beaten them to Beth and her thirty-three thousand. But her eyes and ears had told her, only this morning, that the Officer and Beth had had quite an argument though none of them seemed to know what the cause was.

Still, it was heartening - Caroline had learned not long ago that Beth had taken to her bed and refused all visitors. Beth was a strong willed girl, Caroline knew, and she deduced the lovers tiff must have been serious indeed. Tavington would not be able to make up with the lass any time soon.

Which was another cause for Caroline's irritation. This was Arthur's opportunity to step forward and court the girl! Caroline herself could only do so much. She believed that Clinton would not force Beth to wed a man of his choosing so it was Caroline up to the Simms family to secure her themselves!

"Mrs. Simms," a soft voice said at her shoulder. "Master Simms has arrived home."

"Ah, good. Send him to me at once," she told the servant.

The sky was almost black now, stars were popping into view. Caroline gathered herself, prepared for what she must tell her son. Outwardly, the woman was quite composed but inside, she seethed with rage. Absolute fury. They could secure Miss Martin but not if Arthur continued his debaucheries! Beth was a discerning lass, she certainly would not choose to marry a man who bedded all and sundry!

The parlor door closed and Caroline turned, watched her son approach her. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek perfunctorily before sitting across from her.

"You wished to see me?" Arthur asked.

"Indeed," she said coolly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow - he knew that voice. He had put up with his mother's ways for seventeen years now - nearly eighteen years. He tried not to roll his eyes as he searched his mind for what the Hell he had done now.

"You may be wondering exactly why I sent for you," she said coolly as she placed her tea cup on the saucer. It was almost empty now - the cup - and she placed it on a nearby side table, then placed her empty hands in her lap. Calmness personified - yet Arthur was not fooled.

"I was curious, I admit," Arthur said.

_I'm a Goddamned Dragoon now - a soldier in His Majesties army! I don't have to put up with whatever admonishment she has coming!_

His thoughts were mutinous but still Arthur waited his mother out, he made no verbal protest.

"Arthur," Caroline said, her voice turning colder, allowing some of her irritation slipping through her facade. "I was informed this morning by the laundry staff that when they changed the sheets on your bed this morning, they discovered that your coverlet was completely covered in..." she pursed her lips with distaste. "With evidence of coupling."

"What?" Arthur was incredulous. Of all the things he had been expecting, this was not one of them! He had not even slept in his bed last night, what the Devil was she talking about?

"It was clear, judging by the disturbance of the pillows and the coverlet, that two people shared that bed and enjoyed... pleasures that should only be experienced in the marriage bed," she ground out. It occurred to her that perhaps she should have let Mr. Simms deal with this but she dismissed the thought at once. He was a man himself - he would only sympathize with Arthur. No - this must be done by her - as Arthur's mother. "I would like to know who you were having relations with under my very roof, young man."

"Who I was having relations with?" Arthur shook his head, shocked. He had been with several young lovelies - Linda at the tavern, Mariah, Stacey - the woman Tavington had paid for over a week ago now, Arthur's first and still his favorite. But that had taken place at the tavern after the ball had ended! He had never been into his room at all! He was about to defend himself, to tell this crazy woman it was not him when suddenly it hit him like a tonne of bricks.

Tavington had asked Arthur for the key to his chamber so he could to slip away with his favorite. Without being told, Arthur had known it was Beth Martin that the Officer had desired to be alone with. Now Arthur found himself in quite a dilemma. The British Officer - his superior - had sworn the boy to secrecy. He was not to tell a single soul and Arthur was not going to break his vow. Not a vow made to Tavington - he damned near worshipped the ground Tavington walked on!

With a sullen sigh, Arthur chose the only course of action available to him.

"I am sorry, Mamma," he said, trying to sound contrite. "I would rather not reveal her. I promise it will not happen again, however."

This did not satisfy Mrs. Simms, not in the slightest.

"Arthur, I think you fail to understand the seriousness of this, and what the possible repercussions could be!" Mrs. Simms said stately. "Do you love this girl, this woman -"

"No, Mamma," Arthur shook his head. "I do not."

_I don't love this imaginary woman I took to my chamber and fucked right there on my bed. Christ, Tavington, you lucky, sly old bastard! How many times did you bed Miss Martin to get my coverlet so soiled that the bloody maids noticed! _

"Well that is a relief, at least!" His mother said coldly now. "Quite obviously the girl was not very virtuous - she had been bedded before - I hope you realise?"

"How would you know that?" Arthur frowned. He had always thought Beth was quite virtuous and felt certain Tavington would have taken her virginity only the night before in Arthur's bed.

"There was no _blood_, Arthur," Mrs. Simms replied as though speaking to a simpleton. "Plenty of your seed but not a drop of her blood. Mark my words. If she finds herself 'in the way', I do hope she doesn't claim you are the father. That girl - whoever she might be, had already been deflowered!"

Arthur tried not to chortle. Beth was not the type, he knew it instinctively. Which meant that Tavington had already managed to seduce the girls virginity before last night! The Officer had only known her a few days - five at most! That sly old -

"Must I remind you that in order to secure Miss Martin, we have will have to court her ourselves?" Her words cut his through his thoughts and Arthur stiffened.

He stared at her, wide eyed with shock, then suddenly his memory returned to him. He had still been quite drunk from the night before when he slipped back into the mansion early that morning. He had planned to bathe and then meet his fellow Dragoons. Arthur had known he would be in the saddle all day though it had not stopped him from spending the night drinking, dicing and bedding the doxies at the tavern.

But before he could even order his bath drawn, they - his parents - summoned him and had discussed their plans to marry him off to Beth. He had been so soused, he had barely been able to understand them. But he remembered the conversation now - it all came crashing back with another load of those bricks that had hit him a few moments earlier.

"Miss Martin?" He said weakly. Christ.

He couldn't marry Beth - Tavington would kill him! All of the Dragoons knew she was his and therefore off limits! Besides - she'd rogered Tavington in Arthur's own bed! He wouldn't marry her even if she did come with... What, how much was it again? He couldn't remember but it had been enough to impress his parents!

"Yes, Miss Martin!" Caroline snapped. "I asked her to consider you and she said she would! Now, I know that Tavington has designs on her now - his ears pricked up like a blood hound sniffing a scent when he heard she had thirty-three thousand coming to her! He will marry her himself given half a chance!" She leaned forward with menace. "But we will not give him half a chance, now will we?"

"Mother -" Arthur began to protest but Mrs. Simms was having none of it.

"You will not make a better match, Arthur! You are a third son, you have to make your own way!"

"I know that!" He snapped back. "That does not mean -"

"Miss Martin comes with wealth, _without_ her family! Her father will not be in her life - she will be ours utterly, which means her fortune will be! Yours I mean - it will all be yours, when she marries you! You will not want for a thing, dearest, don't you understand? I only want whats best for you and right now, that is Miss Martin! But if she learns you took some woman to your bed and... and..." She trailed off, breathing heavily, then continued in a hushed whisper. "Had relations with her, then Miss Martin will not accept you!"

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" Arthur threw his hands in the air, frustrated beyond compare. He could put a stop to this foolishness in a heart beat by revealing it had been Tavington in his room - with the very woman his mother was trying to marry Arthur off to! It would end all of this nonsense at once but it meant Arthur would have to break his vow to Tavington and that was something he _really_ did not want to do.

"Don't you take that tone with me," she snapped. "And no profanity! Who do you think you are speaking with!"

Mrs. Simms was aghast but all Arthur could do was cradle his head in his hands and moan, hoping it would all go away. All this pain and turmoil. It was hurting his head.

"You have to secure her, Arthur - I can only do so much! And the time is now - because I learned earlier today that Tavington and Miss Martin quarreled last night but I do not know why."

"They quarreled?" Arthur frowned. That would explain Tavington's foul mood - he had been in a fury all day long!

"Indeed - which means you could go and visit her, cheer her up and sweep her off her feet!"

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Arthur muttered again.

"Enough!" Mrs. Simms rose and towered over her son. "You will do this -"

"Mamma - I don't want to marry her!"

"She's beautiful! And witty! And charming - Clinton is besotted with her which can only do wonders for your career!" Mrs. Simms shook her head, utterly bewildered.

"I don't care about any of that," Arthur lied, though in truth he did and his mother knew it. The boy wanted nothing more than to move through the ranks, rise as high as Tavington - his idol! But he could not achieve any of this by marrying Beth, not even if she did have Clinton's favour! He could not - _would_ not - marry Tavington's lover!

Besides, he had his pride and he wanted a _bloody_ virgin, thank you very much! He could not say any of this to his mother, of course. He was caught, well and truly caught.

"You will at least try to win her regard, or as the good Lord stands witness - if you do not, I will disinherit you!"

"Mother!" Arthur cried with outrage but Mrs. Simms turned and began walking from the parlor.

"I mean every word, Arthur," she threw over her shoulder, then slammed the door behind her.

Arthur groaned. He thought furiously, trying to find a way out of this mess.

:::::::::::


	23. Chapter 23 - A Nasty Trick

**Chapter 23 - A Nasty Trick**

Mila threw the curtains open and Beth dragged the blankets over head with a groan.

"Uh-uh, little missy," Mila said cheerfully. "You ain't going to wile away the day in bed again. Its time to rise and shine."

"I don't want to," Beth's words were muffled by her blankets. She had spent all of Saturday in bed and after what she had been through at the ball, her family had let her be. Her Uncle Mark had come in with a cup of tea quite early in the morning, he had sat on the edge of her bed and the two had spoken quietly of everything that had happened.

Well, almost everything. Beth certainly had not told her Uncle that she had spent time in Arthur Simms bed chamber alone with Tavington, she managed to conceal those nasty truths. However, he was told of everything else - her conversation with Clinton, Mr. and Mrs. Simms desire for her to marry Arthur, Clinton's offer of Guardianship. Mark had asked her to write to her father - he felt Benjamin needed to be kept abreast of all of the news - Beth was his daughter, after all.

She'd had other visitors throughout the day, mostly family - Charlotte, Mage, Cilla. But Mary had come as well, she was in her own torment after all.

_"I just want to leave Charles Town," Mary said as she sat on the edge of Beth's bed. "My mother is a disgrace. She has shamed us all. Its going to be Hell, living here when this gets out."_

_Beth stared quietly at her hands, tears brimming her eyes. _

_"All that time, he was bedding her - your mother. And others. How could he?" She asked as the tears spilled down her cheeks. "I was fooled - I thought he loved me."_

_"Did he declare it - did he tell you he loved you?" Mary asked gently._

_Beth shook her head and gasped back a sob. "I was just stupid enough to believe it anyway."_

_"Poor darling," Mary edged closer and placed her arms around Beth, the two women cried their misery. "Its all Tavington's fault." _

_"Yes, it is," Beth said, wiping her tears. _

_"My family is destroyed, your heart is broken. I hate him, I honestly detest him."_

_Beth said nothing - the gentle Mary had never made a declaration of hatred before, Beth would not try and talk her out of it. She could not defend William - not when his bastard was growing in Mary's mother's stomach._

_"Dear Lord - your brother or sister," she moaned, utterly desolate. "Your mother is carrying William's bastard, and he or she is your -"_

_"Oh, don't say it!" Mary cried. "I can't stand it - my father, he is so angry. He would not let Mamma back into the house, not that I blame him. And everyone will know, how they will talk! I need to leave Charles Town, I need to -"_

_Mary broke down then and Beth comforted her. Their misery was shared, after all._

::::

And now it was Sunday morning, the sun was filtering in through the windows and the birds were chirping outside. Others in the house were readying themselves for Church and Beth knew she had to rise from the bed and prepare herself for the day ahead.

"I've had a bath drawn for you," Mila said, consoling now. "And you will be able to have a nice long soak before breakfast. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Beth nodded wordlessly and rose from the bed in only her shift.

"Wash your hair too," Mila commanded. "I'll lay out your dresses."

"Thank you," Beth said woodenly and walked from her room. She encountered Cilla in the hallway, her cousin gave her a relieved grin to see Beth up and about. They chatted for a few moments, mostly about the good news they had received the day before. Colin had proposed to Mary at the ball - before the nightmare had started. She had accepted him and they were officially engaged.

Finally, Beth entered the bathing room, locked the door, removed her robe and climbed into the tub with a heavy sigh. She had a full day ahead of her, not only church that morning but Tavington would be coming by for her early that afternoon. She would have to see him again and she was not looking forward to it at all.

But she had no choice in the matter - it was Sunday and she was supposed to accompany Tavington to the Square that evening, where she would wait for Burwell.

Why he wanted to collect her so early for the damned mission was beyond her. How many hours would she have to suffer being in his presence before he escorted her to the Square? Fear began to wind through her heart ache, adding to her anxiety. She still had no idea what William would do when Burwell didn't show. Mark had tried to reassure her, the Redcoats had no reason to suspect her.

But this altercation between her and Tavington weighed heavily on her, their 'friendship' would afford her no protection if he suspected her. Besides, their friendship was at an end. She would never again feel his lips on hers, his hands holding her, touching her. The pleasures she had felt - what he had awoken in her!

"Oh, this is useless," Beth cried aloud. She grabbed up the soap and washed her hair quickly, then rose from the tub. "This was meant to _soothe_ me!"

But being alone with her thoughts was not soothing, not one bit. Worry and fear, heartache and affliction. She had wanted to be alone with her anguish yesterday but not today. Today, she needed company, she needed her family around her - at least until Tavington came to take her away in the afternoon.

"And I haven't even started on the other part of my 'mission'," she said in a mocking tone as she toweled herself vigorously. "I haven't spoken to Marcus, I have no idea who delivered Harry's letter. _He_ wants me to uncover 'rebel' spies! As if I'd tell _him_, if I discovered one."

'_He'_ was William, of course. But it hurt her too much, caused too much pain to say his name.

"Finished already?" Mila asked as she slipped into the bathing chamber. "I told you to soak."

"I did," Beth replied. "I have too many thoughts going through my head - I can't stop thinking about _him_. And then there is tonight and -"

"Beth, everything is going to be fine," Mila said, uncharacteristically gentle. She did like to tease her 'mistress' but when push came to shove, she was always there for Beth. "Just get today over with and you need not ever see him again. We'll be leaving in a few days."

"And then you'll be heartbroken over leaving Zeke behind," Beth said quietly. She was not so far gone with her own misery that she could not sense Mila's.

"What will be will be," Mila said with a sad smile. "It need not be forever - we won't stay away from Charles Town forever and your Uncle Mark will come out to visit Fresh Water and Drakespar. I'll see Zeke again."

"You're stronger and braver than me, Mila." Beth said earnestly.

:::

Beth had sat through the church service without hearing any of it, though the Putman's usually sat in the front pew. As the day continued her anxiety increased steadily. Even when they returned home, Beth had climbed out of the carriage in a daze and she barely touched a bite of her lunch.

And now the time for Tavington's arrival was fast approaching. Beth wandered through the manor in a restless and distressed state, not quite knowing what to do with herself. She was on edge, every horse that trotted by sent a jolt of anguish through her, and when she heard someone knocking on the front door... She thought her heart would come right through her ribs!

But the new arrivals had turned out to be Colin and Private Watson. As both young men were her friends, Beth believed they must have come to visit her. She trotted down the stairs but when she reached the parlor, she found it was empty. She heard their voices, nevertheless - coming from Mark's office down the hall. Why they were visiting Mark first was a puzzle in itself. With a shrug, Beth left the parlor to join her friends there.

Mark was sitting in a large chair with his back to the door, Colin and Watson sat across from him on a side angle. None of them noticed Beth at first.

"What we need," Mark was saying to Watson. "Is for you to be in a position to aid us when the time comes to have Rutledge rescued from the cells."

Beth gasped and the three men whirled in their chairs to face her. She stared wide eyed at Watson, shocked to the core.

"Beth!" Mark frowned. "You shouldn't come in here without knocking - not ever!"

"Your door was open, I couldn't help but here you even if I was still in the hall!" Beth cried, instantly furious. She turned on Watson. "What the Devil is this? Nicholas - are you a _spy_?"

"Shh!" Mark hissed. He raced to the door and poked his head into the hallway, finding it empty. He shut it tight and turned back to Beth. "Keep your voice down!"

"And you!" Beth rounded on him at once. "You are a spy too! You know that I was supposed to question Marcus about who delivered Harry's letter, I'm supposed to uncover spies and you are one!"

"Oh, and you are going to tell Tavington that, I assume?" Mark arched an eyebrow.

"Of course not!" Beth snapped furiously. "You know I would never do such a thing! But dear Lord - don't you know how dangerous this is, how close _he_ is to discovering you?"

"He is not close to discovering us at all!" Mark shot back. Then he drew a deep, calming breath and indicated the spare two seater lounger. "Take a seat Beth."

"Damned right I will!" She stated and plonked herself in the indicated chair. "You have some explaining to do, Uncle. And you also, Colin. You are to join the Dragoons!"

"Exactly," Colin smiled with satisfaction. "There will be more eyes and ears for Burwell now, amongst Tavington's own men!"

"Colin!" Mark said sharply and Colin blushed crimson.

"Who else?" Beth asked, incredulous.

"Never mind that now," Mark ground out with a glare for Colin. "Beth, I hope you understand the seriousness of this, the need for absolute secrecy."

"Of course I do!" She folded her arms across her chest.

"Beth," Mark leaned forward intently. "If Colin or Watson are discovered, they will hang."

Beth sobered instantly. She slowly unfolded her arms and crossed her hands in her lap before exchanging nervous glances with Colin and Watson.

"I won't say a word," she said finally and both youths relaxed.

"Excellent," Mark said as he sat down. "Christ, what a balls up."

"You shouldn't have spies meeting with you in your home if you fear discovery, Uncle," Beth admonished. "Do Aunt Mage and Cilla know?"

"Only Mage," Mark confirmed.

"Sweet Heaven," Beth shook her head. "Speaking so freely of rescuing Rutledge - right here in your office. Lord, what were you thinking?"

"Its the only safe place - no one suspects anything. We take measures to be circumspect. Besides, no one questions Watson or Colin's continual visits here."

A terrible thought occurred to her and she paled visibly. Beth turned her gaze slowly to Watson's, feeling hurt and betrayed all over again.

"You were never here to court me," she said softly to Nicholas. "You didn't admire me at all! You were only using that as an front to visit and have these little meetings with my Uncle!"

"No, thats not true," Watson said immediately.

"Yes it is! All this time you've pretended friendship, pretended you _liked_ me and it was all a cover!"

"No," he said desperately. "I mean yes - it certainly helped - my friendship with you has given me a reason to be here so I can remain in constant contact with Mr. Putman, but I swear - my feelings for you are genuine!"

"He is telling the truth, Beth," Colin said quietly. She shot him a glance and saw he was being quite earnest. "Will you see betrayal everywhere, because Tavington's affections turned out to be false?"

Beth choked up instantly. She bowed her head and willed herself not to cry. Watson was at her side immediately, taking her by the hand.

"That was cruel, Ferguson," he berated Colin. "And completely unnecessary."

"No, its true," Beth sniffed. She wiped her cheeks with a handkerchief.

"Still cruel all the same," Watson said firmly.

"I'm sorry, Beth," Colin said gently. "I didn't mean to hurt you - its just that... Well, Watson does admire you. You've been wronged, but that doesn't mean you can't trust anybody."

"I know," she replied. With a heavy sigh, she changed the subject. "Do you really think you can free Rutledge?"

"With very careful planning," Mark said confidently. "And with Watson's aid. It helps to have an actual British Officer on side - they won't think for one moment that one of their own has turned."

Beth gazed at Watson sitting beside her, still holding her hand.

"Nicholas, why _have_ you turned?" She asked him. "Why are you doing this?"

The British soldier blushed again and suddenly burst out angrily, "he wouldn't let me dance with you! Bordon came and said I was to cede my dances to him, and I could do nothing! They abuse their power constantly!"

Beth frowned, Watson's decision to turncoat must have been made weeks ago - if not months ago. What he had just told her could not possibly be the reason. Reading the question in her gaze, he continued with resignation.

"It's not just that..." Watson sighed. "But its definitely something that disgusts me - its not the first time that a superior Officer has gotten away with pulling rank in such a fashion. I've been... disillusioned for a long time, Beth."

"Lord, why?" Beth grasped his hand tightly. "I'm a Patriot, I want my country free of the Crown, but you! You are _British_, born and bred!"

"There are Whigs back home too, you know," Watson smiled. "Though I did not realise I was one of them until I began fighting in the Colonies. Lord, my father will kill me," a sad sigh.

"If Tavington doesn't first," Beth said pointedly. "Treason, Nicholas. You could hang!"

"I know." He squeezed her fingers. "I know."

"Lord... Colin," Beth turned to her oldest friend. "The risks - you will be in the Green Dragoons!"

"Don't fear for me Beth - I have my duty to do and its an important one. I have made my choice."

"You are stubborn," she murmured.

"You should know - you grew up with me."

"We all know the risks..." Watson said now.

"Will you be careful?" Beth asked, shifting her gaze from one youth to the other. "I couldn't stand it, if anything were to happen to either of you! Colin - you know I love you dearly and you, Nicholas," she turned back to the Redcoat Officer. "You've become such a good friend."

"Just a friend?" Watson asked intently, though he tried to keep his voice light.

"Nicholas..." She paused uncertainly, then decided to confide in him. "I've decided to marry Colonel Burwell. I've accepted his proposal and we have been engaged for three days now."

Beth caught Mark's gaze, he nodded approvingly despite their agreement to keep the information confined only to the family, Colin and Mary.

"I see," Watson breathed.

"I'm sorry."

"No... Don't be. Thank you for telling me," he glanced down at their clasped hands and his voice became chill. "Does _he_ know?"

Beth had no doubt which 'he' Watson was speaking of. "No. I felt it prudent to keep it quiet, which is why I have not told you sooner."

"Because I'm a Redcoat and can't be trusted?" His smile showed he was teasing. "They do not have my Loyalty anymore. I'm not the first to... turn coat," Watson's voice caught, he had never said the words before, not out loud.

"It's not too late, Nicholas. You haven't done anything against the Crown yet have you?" She turned to Mark. "Has he? It's not too late."

"I'm sorry, Beth, but yes it is too late - there is no turning back now," Mark told her. Beth lowered her eyes sadly.

"Four years, I've served for," Watson said passionately. "The things I've seen. The things I've _done_... We fight a gentlemanly war for the most part, but occasionally..." He tossed his head. "No, it is done. I understand the situation perfectly now, and I believe the Colonies must be freed. I've made my decision."

"Very well," Beth felt incredibly saddened, she did not think there where many Redcoats to have changed sides, despite Watson's words.

"Come, lets go to the parlor - its stuffy in here," Mark said, letting the others know the discussion was over. They filed out of Mark's office and retired to the parlor. Eventually they were joined by Mage and Cilla. Mary - who could not stand to home at the moment - arrived shortly later as well.

She sat beside Colin, the two holding hands and smiling. At least Mary had some joy in her life, being engaged to Colin finally. Her joy was blighted by her mother's disgraceful affair but it was clear she would try and put on a happy face and embrace the happy things that were happening in her life. Not all was doom and gloom.

_Its not all doom and gloom for me either,_ Beth thought to herself._ I'm engaged... I'll get married... I'll leave this place and never think of certain people again soon. I'll be happy again... Soon._

"Mr. Tisdale understands that Mary wants to be away from Charles Town as soon as possible. He is considering speaking with our reverend about waving the banns, so that we might marry urgently and she can accompany me when the Green Dragoons ride out."

"What?" Beth exploded instantly. Everyone else was nodding and smiling - even Mary, though it would mean she was living in camp. But after what Beth had just learned - that Colin was joining the Dragoons to spy on their activities - she was outraged and fearful for Mary! All eyes turned to her, startled at her outburst. Beth tried to explain herself without giving too much away.

"Colin," she said with a pointed glance. "Don't you think camp life would be disagreeable and... _Dangerous_?"

"I don't care," Mary said at once, answering for Colin also. She believed Beth was merely speaking of the many hardships camps suffered and the threat of attack and she framed her reply in kind. "I can live rough, if it means I'm with Colin. And as for danger - I'll be living with the main force, I won't actually be traveling with the Green Dragoons when they... Do whatever it is they do..."

"But Colin could be gone for days on end," Cilla spoke up. "What will you do all by yourself?"

"I won't be by myself - other Officers wives live in camp. They work hard too - did you realise? Its wives that form the backbone of an army camp - doing cooking and sewing and all sorts of jobs. I always thought camp followers meant..." She coughed delicately and blushed. "Anyway, it seems that camp followers are actually wives who work for the camp and travel with their husbands!"

"I see," Beth said, stunned. She frowned with disapproval at Colin but clearly their minds were as one with this decision and nothing Beth said could alter it. She heaved a sigh and gave up.

Talk turned to the wedding, of course, a happy enough topic in such troubled times. Mary's wedding dresses, where the wedding would be held, if Colin's parents would travel from the Santee, who would stand with Mary, who conceded that if Beth was already gone from Charles Town before the wedding took place, she must have her three remaining friends stand with her. Cilla, Rebecca Middleton and Sarah Wilkins.

"Almost two-o'clock," Cilla sighed as she gazed at the clock on the mantel.

The group fell silent and tense. Beth had received a note from Tavington, telling her he would collect her at 2pm, and he would escort her to the Assembly Hall where she would be readied for the rendezvous.

"So. You don't need to take any dresses? A packed bag, to make it look like you are ready to flee with Colonel Burwell on the instant?"

"No, Cilla. _He_ indicated in the note that everything I needed would be provided."

"Are you nervous?" Mary asked gently.

"Yes," Beth laughed and held out her hand, which was shaking slightly. Watson took hold of her hand, his expression filled with concern.

"You do not need to fear," Mark assured her. "You will go with Tavington, wait for Burwell who will not show of course, and then he will bring you home again."

Beth nodded with a heavy sigh.

"Beth, I mean it. You will be quite safe," he gave her the same pointed look _she_ had given Colin earlier. "You have friends amongst the Dragoons." He said carefully and Beth understood at once.

He leaned in close and pitched his voice low for her ears alone, as the others spoke amongst themselves.

"You may not see them or even know who they are, but you will have friends watching you tonight. They are in place and ready to spirit you to safety if need be."

Beth visibly relaxed. "You and Harry think of everything, it seems."

"It's times like this I wish I was a Green Dragoon," Watson said, still holding Beth's hand, sitting close enough to have heard Mark's words. "Another friend to watch over you."

"Thank you," she smiled warmly, for both his willingness to help her and his acceptance that they would remain nothing more than friends.

"The sooner this horrible business is over with the better!" Mage said brusquely. "I can't stand it, all the waiting, all this danger. It's no good for my nerves."

"There is plenty of room for everyone at Fresh Water," Beth said seriously. "Its dangerous here. Uncle, why don't you come with us?"

"I am needed here," he glanced at Mage and Cilla. "But perhaps... It might be prudent to begin considering sending you to Benjamin -"

Before he could say another word, the parlor door opened abruptly and Tavington strode in purposefully, making a sudden and dramatic entrance.

His face could have been carved from stone.

Beth froze, her breath caught in her throat as his cold eyes met hers across the room. She had not seen him since the ball and now here he was, standing at his full height, back ramrod straight, gazing down at her with ice in his eyes. Her heart began to pound and she swayed where she sat.

His frown took in Watson then when he saw their clasped hands, his eyes widened and his expression became murderous.

By silent agreement, Beth and Watson released their hands, though it did not mollify William in the slightest.

"Are you ready?" He asked, ignoring the others. His soft voice was colder than ice and Beth could only nod wordlessly. "Then come." A curt command as he stepped toward the door to wait for her.

Beth heard a collective sigh of relief from her friends and family, a release of pent up tension, as she followed Tavington out into the hallway.

Watson darted out of the parlor before Beth and Tavington reached the front doorway.

"Sir!" He addressed the older, higher ranking Officer.

Tavington turned to him slowly, his gaze taking him in from head to toe in a quick, assessing glance.

"Yes, Private?" A polite drawl filled with loathing.

With nervous fingers, Beth tightened her cape around her, chilled by his voice despite the warmth of the day.

"Is there anything I can assist with, Sir?" Watson asked, hoping, despite his fear, that he could be there for Beth.

"No, Private, you are not needed," Tavington turned on his heel, gripped Beth's arm and marched her our of the house.

::::::::

Tavington did not release his hold on her arm as they marched along the path that wound through the trees, all the way to the front gate. He still held her arm when they got to the carriage and he helped her in. Despite that, she managed to recover herself somewhat and when she sat on the hard seat across from him, she was able to hold his gaze with an icy one of her own.

For a moment, anyway. She eventually pulled her gaze from his intent stare.

Instead, she stared through the window of the carriage as it ambled along slowly from her Uncles house to the Assembly Hall. Arms folded across her chest, Beth sniffed and kept her eyes resolutely fixed on the houses and the people, as the carriage passed them by.

She could feel his cold, pale gaze on her, though Beth refused to glance his way. Thankfully, Tavington did not seem to be particularly talkative. He seemed intent on staring at her in absolute silence. Beth caught sight of the Dragoon guard, trotting their horses alongside the carriage. Eight of them all told, Wilkins, Simms, Bordon, several others.

Including a soldier with a ruined face. A scar, deep and angry, ran the length of his face from his eyebrow to his lips. It unnerved Beth, she could not look at the man who had been so terribly wounded. She shuddered with revolution.

A short way into their travel, Beth broke the silence.

"Have you ever had an argument with someone, only to realise afterward there was so much more you wished to say?" She snapped in a waspish tone, finally meeting his eyes again.

"Indeed," he drawled. "Do you have more to say, Beth?"

"_Indeed_," she mimicked his cool tone and ignored his frown. "So very many things, I hardly know where to begin."

"Then don't bother," he advised, he was in no mood to spar with her on the short ride.

"Three women at once William. You asked me once if I believed you so inconstant, when I accused you of having a roving eye. As it turns out, my instincts were quite right!"

"We've already discussed this, I thought you had something new for me," he arched an eyebrow. "No? Then be silent."

"_Be silent?_" Beth's voice rose. "Are you engaged or not? The truth, William. If you are capable of it."

"I am not engaged to Miss Price."

Not any more, he added to himself. He had sent a letter to his mother that very morning, it would set sail and be in England in another two months. But as far as he was concerned, his engagement to Miss Eleanor Price was at an end. Fixing her with his piercing gaze, he leaned forward intently.

"And what of you and Watson?" He ground out. "You were holding his hand!"

"Yes, I was, wasn't I? Despite your attempts to separate us at the ball," she smiled. His eyes took on a dangerous glint. "And I had a letter from Banastre yesterday morning, telling me of his news and asking me mine..."

William tensed, his eyes grey steel. "Did you now?"

"Hmm. I simply must write back, I'm certain he will be quite interested in all I have to tell him. Though I doubt he will be surprised to learn of all your affairs, I'm sure he knew of them."

"Yes he knew. He is hardly one to judge, however," Tavington replied complacently.

"No?" Beth asked. She frowned, suddenly wary.

"No," Tavington mocked. "He bedded Helen Shaw before I did. He even had Linda Stokes once or twice, though he preferred Mariah. Mrs. Vera Tisdale knew his affections one night, also."

Beth stared at him, breathing heavily with disbelief. So much for all of Banastre's professions of love in his letter, Christ - he was no better than William!

"Yes," Tavington replied, smiling coldly. "We often feel attracted to the same women, we even share them when the mood takes us."

"It's a pity Banastre left when he did, then, isn't it?" Beth said recklessly. Knowing it would make William jealous, she continued, "I could have known more from him than a single, if delightful, farewell kiss."

Tavington stared at her, momentarily frozen with shock. "He _kissed_ you?" He said, incredulity warring his jealousy.

"_Indeed_," Beth smiled mockingly.

William wanted to wipe the smug smile from her face, wanted to shake her. Wanted to take Banastre by the neck and throttle -

"And as I said," Beth taunted, interrupting his raging thoughts, "it was _delightful_."

Pushed beyond his limit, Tavington growled and lurched forward. Beth gasped and recoiled but he was quicker. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back on the seat. She tried to cry out and to push him off her but he was too heavy, too strong. He covered her with his body and pinned her to the seat beneath him.

"And his letter?" Tavington hissed, his lips a mere inch from hers. She could feel his warm breath in her mouth. "Did he express his feelings for you, does he still love you?"

"Of course!" She snapped up at him, furious that he could handle her with such ease. "He's only been gone a few days! Get off me," she pushed at his shoulders again, to no avail. "You're such a _brute_!"

"A brute, am I?" He didn't budge. "Where is this letter, give it to me!" Deranged with jealousy and lost to all propriety, he began searching for the slit in her skirts, to search her pockets. Beth screamed with rage and writhed beneath him.

"How dare you!" She shouted up at him, kicking her legs and pushing at his shoulders. Her face twisted with fury.

Breathing heavily, William relented. He stopped his attempts to search her, though he did not remove his weight from her.

"I'm sorry," he said calmly and Beth ceased her struggling. Entering a woman's pockets was a crime akin to rape, after all and even William knew he had gone too far. "Tell me then, what did he say, in this letter of his?"

"It's none of your business. Ask him if you wish to know. You're such close friends, he might even tell you," she pushed at him again. "Get off me."

"No," he said firmly and gazed at her lips. "Have you kissed Watson?"

"I would lie and say yes, simply to hurt you," she said furiously. "But no. I will not use Watson in such a fashion. I have not kissed him."

"Lucky for him," William said ominously. "Do not doubt it, Beth. I can make his life a misery."

"I well believe it, you've made _mine_ a misery!" She yelled back.

"As you're making mine!" He snapped down at her. "Why must you be so damnably stubborn?"

Beth laughed at him. An angry, scornful laugh. "Oh, yes, I imagine it is normally so easy for you, the likes of Linda Stokes and Helen Shaw, dropping at your feet."

"Yes," William said with a suddenly warm smile. "Helen has been quite accommodating these last two nights."

Her heart gave an awful lurch and she breathed in a sharp breath.

"William!" She wailed quietly, her eyes instantly filling with tears. "How could you?"

Tavington, satisfied that he had cowed her, nodded and finally shifted his weight off her.

She sat up slowly and swallowed hard, tried to keep from sobbing as she pressed her hands to her stomach. He felt an unaccustomed wave of guilt, seeing her so distressed.

"Beth," William said softly, apologetically. He tried to take her hand but she jerked it away. "It is not true, darling. I was trying to hurt you."

"It worked!" She snapped, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "As if you've not hurt me enough!"

"Come, little one, I didn't mean it," he tried to place his arm around her in attempt to comfort her, but she hissed and recoiled away.

"Very well," he snapped, out of patience. The carriage pulled to a stop and William jumped out. He turned back immediately and held his gloved hand to her, to assist her out. She disdained his hand and climbed down on her own. "This way."

He did not offer his arm, knowing she would refuse it. As it was, he walked close enough to almost be touching as they strode into the Assembly Hall.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Four o'clock. Beth sighed as the maid worked her hair intricately. Three more hours until William would be escorting her to the Square. And shortly after that, he would know that Burwell was _not_ coming.

A dress had been provided for her, a lovely silk gown fit for a ball. Beth was still astounded, as she sat at the small table while the maid worked her hair, she fingered the fine silk and lace. This was not a dress to wear to the Square, not even if one was meeting a lover. Especially when that lover was supposed to be whisking her away to safety!

Where were her serviceable woolens? Sturdy shoes. A packed bag, a cape? _She_ knew Burwell was not coming. But Tavington did not. Surely he understood that these props would be necessary when trying to lure someone to a 'rescue'? One does not try and escape Charles Town in a bloody silk ball gown!

She wondered if Tavington had had a hand in designing it. The dress was made of her colours, brown paneling and embroidery against cream silk. It was exquisite, every bit as beautiful as the one she had worn to the Simms ball, though the bodice dipped far lower and pushed her breasts up higher.

"I will need a shawl," she told the maid as she stared down at the two large globes of flesh above her bodice.

"What ever for?" A cool drawl from the doorway. She turned in her seat to glare at him, leaning tall against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, one ankle hooked over the other. She had not seen him since he had left her in these rooms two hours ago. He seemed much calmer now.

"It's almost indecent. I wonder if you had a hand in its design?" She asked in a tart voice.

He pushed away from the door and came to stand before her.

"Now, what possible interest could I have in -" he paused and stared down at her bosom. His eyes were dark and his tone became husky as he continued, "in designing dresses."

"What do you want, Sir?" She sighed. She turned in her seat again, facing the small mirror. The maids fingers shook as she continued her work on Beth's hair, unnerved by Tavington's presence.

The Officer pulled his eyes from Beth's bosom reluctantly.

"I came to escort you to dinner." He resisted the urge to adjust his breeches at the crotch. Despite all of the unpleasantness that had occurred between them, he still desired her.

"I am too nervous to eat," Beth admitted softly, and it was true.

Even though she knew Burwell was not coming, even though she had been told she had friends amongst the Dragoons, she still felt nervous and fearful of what was to come. She wished she knew what these fellows - these friends - looked like.

"Be that as it may," William said brusquely, "you will eat - even if it is only a little - I will not have you fainting in the Square."

"No, I dare say it might upset your plans, if you have to tend me for a fainting spell."

Tavington chose not to answer. She could see his reflection in the mirror behind her and she saw him roll his eyes.

"Your hair is done, Miss Martin," the maid said breathlessly. "Now for some powder and you will be finished."

"No powder," Beth shook her head. "I don't wear it."

"You hardly need to," William murmured, his gaze fixed on her reflection. Their eyes met briefly and Beth looked away, unsettled by his lust filled gaze. Tavington turned to the maid. "You may leave."

The woman curtsied and began to withdraw.

"Wait! I need a shawl," Beth said to the woman but Tavington shook his head, addressing the maid.

"She does not need a shawl, leave now."

The woman all but ran from the room, escaping the Officer's icy tone.

"Granted it's a warm night, Sir, still you can not expect me to leave for the Square without so much as a shawl!"

"Of course not, you will be provided with a cape," he shifted forward until he was standing over her. His fingers alighted on her neck, a gentle trail all the way down to the top of her bosom. Beth froze and struggled to keep her breathing under control. A warm flush suffused her and she felt like swaying in her seat.

"But you won't be needing it for a few hours yet, and I wish to..." He trailed off, staring down at her, her face, her bosom, her long neck. "...wish to see you."

"Sir..." Beth gathered herself, she shook her head tiredly and swatted his hand away. "Enough. Dinner you said, shall we?" Suiting her words, she rose from her seat.

"This way," he offered her his arm. She ignored it, of course, and began to waft past him. She made it a single step before his hand encircled her waist and he spun her around.

"Why the rush?" He smiled down at her then pulled her against him. His face blazed above hers, a mixture of lust and anger. "You said you weren't hungry."

He leaned down and brushed his lips along her neck. One arm held her securely around her waist while his other hand drifted up and down her back. His lips drifted lower, down to the tops of her bosom. "Perhaps I can make you as hungry as you make me..." His tone insinuated.

"William!" Breathing raggedly, desperate now. She desperately want to be released yet at the same time to be held as he was holding her now. To be kissed, his lips - now so close to hers... She leaned up to him, her heart pounding. The she began to protest, pushing against him. "No, stop this. Release me."

William ignored her.

"Do you think he will try to kiss you tonight?" He asked, not loosening his hold by a hair. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. She heard his sharp intake of breath, needful, possessive, jealous all at once. "Will you kiss him back?"

"No, William," she tried to even her tone, wriggling in an attempt to free herself. "You will take him as soon as he shows, won't you? Let me go!"

"I will not give him the chance to do more than look at you," he growled low in his throat and crushed her against him.

"Then why go to all this effort?" Startled, she paused in the act of pushing at his shoulders. "I'm dressed to attend a ball, for goodness sake! I should have been wearing ordinary dresses to make it appear as though I was ready to flee with him on the spot!"

"You think I had you dressed like this for _him_?" He asked incredulously. He leaned back momentarily and his hot gaze took her in from head to toe, before he pulled her against him again. "No... This was all for me."

"Lord... _Why_?" She breathed, shocked enough to finally be still in his arms.

"Two whole days!" William bellowed. His fingers dug into her waist like the claws of an eagle clutching its prey. Beth closed her eyes, the rumble of his voice reverberating through her. He breathed in sharply and struggled to calm himself. One hand drifted to her neck, his fingers caressing her nape. He stared down at her intently and lowered his voice, "I've not seen you since the ball. I've not been able to hold you, to _kiss_ you..."

"Release me, William," Beth tried to sound firm, but it felt so damned good to be in his arms again. The last two days had been utter torture for her. "I told you we are done, over -"

"And I told you," he murmured, back in control of himself. "We'll _never_ be done."

His lips brushed hers and she whimpered.

"Oh," she whispered, her resolve fading quickly. She leaned into him, desperate for more.

"You are mine," he said softly against her lips. Another kiss, deeper this time. "And I dare say you do not really want me to let you go, little Beth."

His lips drifted to her neck, caressing, teasing, seductive. Leaving a blazing trail that traced over her jaw, back up to her lips.

"Please, William, don't," a whispered plea. Another moment of this and she would be his once more. She did not want him to let her go, she _was_ his. Her need for him almost overwhelmed her and with an anxious whimper she wrapped one arms around his neck and lifted herself up onto the tips of her toes. Her heart pounded and she felt flushed all over from this one kiss - his lips moving over hers. She parted her lips and took her bottom lip between his, nibbling and suckling gently. Beth sighed with desperate pleasure. One arm wrapped around his neck for support, the palm of her free hand moved up and down his chest over his Redcoat with a mind of its own.

"You don't want me to let you go, Beth," he drew back to murmur against her lips, coaxing, seducing. "You are exactly where you wish to be."

"I am..." She groaned, near to tears. "I don't want you to let me go."

She closed her eyes and rocked her head to once side as their lips met again. He moved his hands along her back, up and down. Then down lower until his hands squeezed her buttocks and drew her closer. Her heart pounded in her chest as he backed her to the table.

Once there, his knee urged her legs apart. He aligned himself, pressed his pelvis to hers and began to rock against her. Beth gasped, she stroked his tongue with hers, keening with need.

"Oh, William..." She whimpered with need.

"It feels so good, doesn't it darling?" He taunted against her lips. Moving his hands from her back, he planted his palms on the table on either side of her, bracing himself. He bent his knees slightly, altering the angle of his bulge against her, now circling against her quim.

"Oh, yes... William..." Panting, Beth gripped his neck and rocked faster as he rotated his hips with agonizing precision.

Nothing else existed except him, his scent, his lips, his tongue stroking hers, the pleasure soaring within her, the sharp jolts in her stomach. The ache between her legs. He watched her as they kissed, judging she was close to climax. Her pelvis pushed back hard against him, it was only his hold on her that stopped her from stumbling forward.

Her face flushed and she panted into his mouth, her fingers clutching at his neck. She was definitely close, her kisses became clumsy, less refined, her panting almost fever pitched now. He pressed her harder, rocked faster. Beth swallowed, her lips parted - no longer responsive beneath his.

"Ohhhh," she tightened her grip and arched her back. She was right at the point of no return, her pleasure would be flooding through her, carrying her on those waves.

Before she could feel that wonderful swell, however, he released her and stepped away so abruptly that she stumbled forward a step.

"What..?" She panted, her eyes snapping open. Pleasure and warmth fled and in its place - nothing. Emptiness.

Confused, Beth looked up into William's suddenly cold, hard face. Stone, his expression was unreadable.

"William!" She cried desperately.

"We are finished, you said," he quoted in a cold, unforgiving tone. "_Release_ you, you said. I'm merely giving you what you asked for."

His gaze was implacable, unmerciful.

"Oh," Beth gasped, tears seared her eyes. "You're so cruel!"

"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow. He made no move to comfort her despite her distress. Assuming a military pose - back ramrod straight and one arm looped behind his back, he ignored his own aching groin as he considered her coldly.

Anguished, Beth stumbled back a step and gripped the table for support.

He continued to stare down at her behind his stone facade, not bending an inch, even when her tears spilled and she began to sob uncontrollably.

"You seem regretful," he observed after a few moments of watching her cry. "It is a woman's prerogative to change her mind, or so they say. Have you changed yours? Do you wish to return to me?"

Words failed her. Beth placed her hands over her face and cried into them. He was waiting for her answer and she finally shook her head. Not after this - she would not return to him - ever again.

William tightened his lips, frustrated beyond compare. He had thought this would teach her - show her what her life would be like without him!

"Then come," he ground out. He swept past her and she followed along behind, her head bowed. It was difficult to see through her tears but he took no pity on her. Beyond taking her by the arm to guide her along the corridors, he was entirely without mercy.

::::


	24. Chapter 24 - The Unsprung trap

**Chapter 24 - The Unsprung Trap**

Tavington led Beth to a small chamber where dinner was ready and waiting. The service was laid out for two people on the small table, a romantic setting for a happy couple. William and Beth were far from happy, however.

Dinner itself was a quiet affair - at least at first. While Beth stared at her plate as though thoroughly engrossed, she didn't eat a bite. The food didn't hold any particular attention for her to stare at it so, she merely did not want to meet Tavington's eyes. She could feel his eyes on her, sitting across from her as he ate. She noticed he was clearing his plate easily enough but she felt sick to her stomach.

She could still feel his lips on hers, his fingers trailing her skin, his hard bulge pressed against her, drawing out pleasure. Only he had deliberately pulled away from her at the last moment, knowing she was about to climax. It was premeditated _and_ repugnant. How could he do such a thing? How could she be in love with such a man?

_Harry loves you and all you can do is think of William... William is right - you are a stupid girl._

Tavington reached across the table to fill her glass up with white wine. Beth eyed it for a moment and without meeting his eyes, without even thanking him, she picked up her glass and drank her wine down in one gulp. The entire goblet - and it had been a generous portion.

"Jesus," William frowned. "You'll need to be able to walk from the carriage through the park, Beth. I don't want you bloody crocked."

_You shouldn't have filled my glass up then, should you? _She left the thought unvoiced.

The wine went straight to her head. The lack of food - Beth had not been able to stomach a bite all day - meant that within minutes a warm glow suffused her, lightening her, chasing away her anguish and her fears. She found herself wanting more but she still would not look at him and she certainly would not speak to him.

An opportunity presented itself when a knock sounded on the door. Tavington rose and while his back was turned, Beth quickly filled up her glass from the decanter and drank it down - again in one gulp. She was just placing her glass on the table and pulling her hand away when he turned back into the room and resumed his seat.

"It was Bordon," he explained. "It is dark enough outside now that the Dragoons are able to move into position."

"I'm supposed to care?" Beth asked, the second glass making her reckless. She finally met his gaze and saw his face darkening with anger. She giggled, undaunted. "Grown men, hiding behind bushes?"

William tightened his lips and took several deliberate breaths before answering.

"If that is what it takes to capture Burwell," he said finally in a composed voice. "The Dragoons pride should not be too bruised if it brings success."

"Hmm, pride..." she murmured, eyeing her glass regretfully. Perhaps she would get another opportunity to fill it soon. "I would imagine that Harry has bruised your pride on several occasions."

Tavington drew in a sharp breath, his pale eyes narrowed.

"Are you trying to provoke me?" He asked her softly.

"Yes, I am," she said loftily. "If you can play your cruel tricks, I can say whatever the Devil I like."

"Ah yes," he taunted instantly. "You didn't like that very much, did you? Perhaps _your_ pride was bruised."

"You've bruised more than my pride, William," she said seriously.

He tilted his head to one side and studied her until she finally lowered her gaze.

"Your cheeks are flushed - if I had known you would react so to one glass of wine, I'd have kept your glass filled at the ball."

"Yes, get me crocked enough and you probably could have claimed my virginity," she replied. "You could have boasted about it to all your friends. They would have all called toasts in your honor," she lifted her empty glass as though toasting him now.

"I would not have done that, Beth," he said quietly. "I would not have told a soul."

"Of course not," she scoffed. "You are a _gentleman_, after all. Or your version of it, at least."

"Jesus, would you eat something?" He snapped. "Fill that mouth of yours with food to shut you up."

"The truth hurts, hmm?" She mocked. "You know damned well you're behavior toward me has been reprehensible."

She reached across the table for the decanter, half expecting him to stop her. When he didn't, she filled her glass, then topped his as well.

"Don't forget to drink it down in one gulp," he sneered. "The quality and vintage are clearly lost on you."

"Yes, I'm a simple farm girl, after all," she retorted. "Bottoms up!"

She held his eyes and drank the next glass down. That was three now and they were definitely going to her head. She felt tingly all over and warm and... and _soused_. The food suddenly held interest to her now and she began to eat.

"Good," William snapped. "It will soak up the wine and you'll stop behaving like such a fool."

"For speaking the truth?" Beth asked after swallowing a small bite. "For defying you, challenging you? Not many do that, do they?"

"No, they have more brains than you do," he scoffed.

Choosing to ignore the earlier unpleasantness, he began eating and drinking again. He considered making small talk with her but dismissed the thought. He was not in the mood and Beth still had that look in her eye - that look that clearly told him that any word from his mouth would be twisted and challenged. He was in no mood to spar with her.

Another knock and Beth perked up, hoping she would be able to sneak more wine. Unfortunately, however, Bordon entered immediately. And Arthur Simms was right behind him.

_Oh shit. Thats just great! Christ. All I need. Wonderful._

Beth continued to stew as the men spoke quietly, Bordon and Arthur standing at the table. Arthur shot her a glance, then another but after nodding an initial greeting, Beth chose to ignore him. She was not focusing on the Officers words, something about Francis Marion - Marion the Fox, being spotted close by, not far from Charles Town. None of it held interest to her.

"Christ!" Tavington flared up. "Of all the nights for him to make an appearance! We can't chase after him tonight!"

"You are not thinking clearly, Sir," Bordon pointed out carefully and held William's gaze.

"Ah," Tavington calmed down at once. "I see. He is here to escort Burwell here - and Beth," he cast her a quick glance. "Away to safety."

Beth's jaw dropped.

"Francis Marion?" She squeaked.

"He has been serving with Burwell for months," Tavington shrugged. "It stands to reason he would aid Burwell now, the Swamp Fox knows all of the back roads and forest trails from here to North Carolina. This is good news, it bodes well for tonight," the last was said to Bordon.

"Yes, I thought so too," Richard said. "Might have a word in private, Sir?"

Tavington nodded and rose and the two Officers moved away.

Beth smiled and placed one finger up to her lips.

"Shh," she giggled softly as she filled her glass again. It was not so easy to pour this, her fourth glass. For some reason the decanter wouldn't hold steady and it almost slopped wine over the side of the glass. Stupid decanter. She bit her lip as she concentrated on her aim, staring intently as the wine poured into her goblet.

Arthur's eyes widened, he glanced at the Officers backs as Beth began to drink the glass down.

"Do you want some?" She whispered.

"No, thank you," he whispered back.

"All for me, then," she giggled and filled her glass yet again. The decanter was almost empty now. She met Arthur's gaze and said abruptly, "you know I'm not going to marry you, don't you?"

"Ah..." He glanced at Tavington, who had turned to look over his shoulder. Beth had spoken a little more loudly than she intended, William had heard her. He stopped to listen.

"Your mother only wants me for my inheritance anyway, and my dowry," she said, oblivious to the eavesdropping Officers. "I don't think we'd make a very good match."

"My mother," Arthur shook his head, almost despairingly. "She said if I didn't court you, she'd disinherit me."

Beth began to laugh.

"Its not funny, Miss Martin!" Arthur said defensively. "She told me, just this morning, that if I was not willing to make my own way by securing you, then she would not support me."

"Oh, you poor thing!" Beth said, highly amused. "Mrs. Simms must truly want us to marry, to disinherit you over such a trifle!"

"I'm glad someone finds it funny," he muttered sullenly.

"Agh, stop worrying. Write me a few love letters," she advised loftily. "Pass them under her nose for her approval. Drop by to see me tomorrow - we'll have a picnic. Oh, we can invite Sarah and Rebecca, Mary and Colin! It'll be fun!"

Arthur glanced at Tavington who was frowning at them both.

"It'll just be for show," Beth said to Arthur, sensing his uncertainly. "She can't accuse you of not trying then, can she? She won't disinherit you, not then."

"Maybe..." Arthur addressed William nervously. "Sir, would that be alright?"

"Your mother will disinherit you if you don't court Miss Martin?" William asked coolly.

"Yes, so she said and I believe her. It'd just be a picnic - its not like Miss Martin and I haven't been to the same picnics before. Would it be alright?"

"Yes, Arthur, as long as you don't have designs on Beth yourself. I wouldn't want you disinherited after all."

"Thank you, Sir." Arthur was clearly relieved. "I don't, have designs on Miss Martin."

Beth glanced back and forth between them both, growing more irritated by the moment.

"Its not _bloody_ up to him who comes to see me or who I picnic with!" She spat with fury. "He has no claim to me, not anymore. Eleven o'clock, Mr. Simms, and not a moment later or I'll change my mind."

"No, no, eleven o'clock is perfect!" Arthur said quickly. "Thank you Miss Martin, you will be doing me a real favor!"

Tavington glowered at Beth. He pursed his lips then turned back to Bordon.

When his back was turned, Beth placed her finger over her lips again, signaling for Arthur to hold his silence, then filled her glass with the last of the wine. Arthur shot an apprehensive glance toward Tavington's back, fearing being accused of complicity.

Beth's head was swimming after she gulped this - the last wine - down.

"He's not going to be happy that your so drunk, Miss Martin," Arthur whispered.

"I don't care," Beth whispered back. "I told you, he has no claim to me."

Arthur scoffed.

"Do you want me to help you with your mother or not?" Beth grumbled peevishly. "What were you about, asking his permission! It was my offer and had nothing to do with him!"

"I am going to escort _his_ woman to a picnic tomorrow!" Arthur half hissed, half whispered.

"_His_ woman?" Beth frowned. "I'm nothing of the sort."

"I'm not certain what dream world you're living in, Miss Martin. But Tavington definitely considers you his woman."

"Then he's a fool," she said loftily. She raised her glass to her lips again but it was empty. She curled her lip then spied Tavington's mostly filled glass across from her. Dare she? A thrill rushed through her, her heart began to pound. What would he say, to find his glass empty, and the decanter as well? Giggling, she reached across the table and grabbed William's glass.

Arthur gasped. He reached out and gripped her wrist, stopping her from drinking the wine.

"I think you're the fool!" he hissed. "Lord, what is the matter with you?"

"He did this to me," Beth almost sobbed, feeling instantly depressed - the wine playing havoc with her. "He broke my heart. The wine is making me feel better though, Arthur and I'm really nervous about tonight too. Please let me have it?"

"Ah, Christ," he muttered. It was against his better judgement but she looked so wretched just then, and scared too. He released her hand.

"Thank you," she murmured and drank the wine. She missed her mouth this time and some spilled down her chin. She wiped it from her face with the back of her hand.

"Arthur, we're leaving," Bordon called. Tavington returned to the table.

"You won't forget about tomorrow, will you?" Arthur asked Beth anxiously as William sat down. Beth was so crocked, he felt certain she wouldn't remember a thing.

"You organise it with Colin, and I'll be there," Beth promised. "He's gonna be a Green Dragoon, you know?"

"I do know," Arthur said as he began to walk to the door.

"Oh, and he's going to marry Mary!" She said excitedly

"I know that too," Arthur began to laugh. He'd never seen her soused before, it was quite entertaining. "Thanks Miss Martin, I really appreciate it."

Beth rested her elbow to the table and leaned her head into her upturned hand. She missed the first time, her hand and arm went one way and her face almost planted into her dinner. She got it on the second try, however and she leaned her head into her palm as the door closed behind Arthur.

Tavington frowned as he watched her. Surely no one would be this drunk after two glasses of wine?

"He's a good lad," she said. "I'd've married him."

"You will not be marrying him," William said firmly.

"Handsome too - though he's younger by two years. I suppose that doesn't matter, though."

"You're not marrying him," William grated. He reached for his glass, he needed a stiff drink if he was to deal with her just now. Only his glass was empty. "Jesus, Beth! You drank my wine!"

"No, I didn't," she slurred. "Arthur must've."

"The Hell he did, he has more sense," he pursed his lips. "You'll be no good to me crocked, Beth!"

"The meeting is hours away!" She shot back. "Hours! Besides, all's I'm gonna to be doing is sitting there, who cares if I've had a wine or two?"

"I bloody care!" He ground out as he picked up the decanter. He could tell immediately that it was empty. "Cock and balls! No wonder your so crocked!"

He was so furious, he hurled the decanter across the room and it shattered into shards against the wall. Beth's eyes widened with astonishment and she lifted her head from her hand to stare at him. Tavington lurched to his feet. Looming over her across the table, he pinned her with his gaze. She was not so drunk that she could not feel fear, Beth recoiled away from him, trying to disappear into the back of the chair.

"If you cause me trouble tonight," he said dangerously. "If you do or say anything that will alert Burwell because you are too pissed to know better, I swear Beth," he paused and swallowed, breathing heavily with rage. "I swear you will regret it."

"I won't..." she whispered, wide eyed and thoroughly intimidated. "I promise."

"You better not," he muttered. "Now eat for Christ's sake, to soak up that wine! Hopefully you won't be so drunk - we've still got two hours. Of all the stupid, idiotic..!" He trailed off, too angry to speak further, and sat heavily in his chair again.

"It made me feel better," she murmured quietly when he was no longer looming over her. She lowered her tear filled eyes. He heard her whisper clearly and he cared for her enough to feel a twinge of guilt. He was the cause of her anguish, after all.

"Just eat, Beth," he said tiredly. "And then I'll take you back to your chamber so you can lay down. Perhaps you'll be able to sleep some of it off"

::::::::::::::::

The time to leave for the Square approached quickly. Beth had managed to sleep some of the wine off but she was still a tipsy when Tavington escorted her to the carriage. The wine had made her feel so wonderful for a while there but now she felt desolate and heartbroken all over again. It seemed worse now, for William had been in close proximity for hours and had not tried to touch her, had not tried to kiss her.

He was behaving cold and hard toward her, showing her the man that everyone else saw. The merciless Butcher of the Colonies.

Now she sat on the lovers seat in the puddle of light from a lit stand lantern. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs. It was strange how she could feel so alone even though she knew she was completely surrounded by William's Dragoons. William himself was out there, watching and waiting.

_He is not coming_, she thought to herself as she rested her chin on the top of her knees. _This is a waste of time. Lord, I hope William doesn't suspect me. I hope he doesn't take me hostage the same as Harry wants to take the Simms family hostage. To use as prisoner exchange_.

Beth felt a twinge of guilt. The Simms were nice enough - though Mrs. Simms desire for Beth to marry Arthur was clearly misplaced. They did not deserve to be attacked - none of them did. She considered sending word to Arthur to be on the alert - she could do so, an anonymous letter before she left Charles town. Harry would not need to know it was her, and it wasn't really a betrayal as such. He shouldn't be attacking civilians to exchange for Officers any more than William should.

_I need more wine_, she thought to herself. _What wouldn't I give to have that lovely feeling back again. _

She heaved a sigh and surreptitiously wiped at a tear as it fell down her cheeks. Such a confusing and painful time its been - she just wanted it over now. She wanted it to end.

_I want my Papa is what I want, _Beth thought. She choked on a sob and buried her face against her knees so the Dragoons would not see her crying.

::::::::::::::::::

William watched from the shadows with Bordon on one side of him and Trellim on the other. The men were squatting behind a row of large bushes. He had a clear view of Beth, sitting in the circle of light. She was clearly crying and trying hard not to show it.

"She's upset," Richard said empathetically. "What did you do?"

"What makes you think I did anything?" William whispered back. He frowned but Bordon could not see it - it was pitch black by now.

"I know you," Richard chuckled. "Thats how."

"I might have done something," William admitted reluctantly.

"You going to elaborate?"

"Nothing better to do, I suppose," they kept their voices pitched low, William doubted even Trellim could hear them, let alone any one approaching from the street beyond Beth. "I merely tried to teach her a lesson. It served to remind her how she feels about me and how it will be between us if she continues to refuse me."

"Hmm, it seems like a lot of hard work to me. Miss Martin is beautiful enough, but it surprises me that you would go to such efforts to secure a mistress, especially when we'll be leaving Charles Town in a few weeks."

"A mistress?" William asked coolly, then scoffed quietly. "No, Captain. I am going to these efforts to secure a _wife_."

Bordon was silent in the dark beside him.

"William!" He hissed finally. "Come to your senses! You can't marry Miss Martin! You are engaged to Miss Price! She is waiting for you, her _and_ her twenty thousand pounds!"

"I knew you would object," William muttered. "It just so happens that Miss Martin is worth far more than I originally thought. She herself has thirty-three thousand pounds from an inheritance and a dowry."

Stunned silence.

"I see..." Richard whispered, his voice filled with shock and wonder.

"Indeed," William agreed. "As soon as I discovered her wealth I decided I would not be taking her as my mistress, but as my wife. I have written to Miss Price - the letter was aboard '_The Kings Blessing'_ this morning. Though Miss Price doesn't know it yet, we are no longer engaged, Bordon."

"Sweet Lord. Thats a drastic move, considering how it is between you and Miss Martin now."

"She is in love with me," William whispered confidently. "I have no doubt I can cool her temper. After this is done and Burwell is taken - I'll have a good few weeks to court her before we leave Charles Town for the Santee. She will come around by then."

"Confident," Richard said softly. "You sound as though you expect the first banns to be read before we even leave."

"That would be the ideal scenario," Tavington agreed. "She will accept me, I do not doubt it. She is so damnably infuriating however. And damned stubborn. Do you know she got _soused_ this afternoon?"

"Yes, Arthur told me," Bordon began to chuckle. "She'll give you a run for your money, thats for certain. As fiery as my Harmony. You don't want a doormat anyway, not for a wife."

"No, I don't. I could wish she was a little less defiant, however," William scowled at Beth from the darkness. "But I want her, even still."

"Thirty-three thousand... You better hope she does love you, she will have suitors knocking down her door when this becomes general knowledge."

"Yes, the Simms already tried to make a connection with her, they wanted her for Arthur."

"I was wondering what all that was about earlier!" Richard spluttered, trying to contain his laughter. "Is that why you've been scowling and sniping at him? The poor boy is beside himself!"

"Yes, it was the reason. Can you imagine - the woman I want to marry, married to one of my Dragoons? I was furious!"

"Now theres an idea," Richard's tone became teasing. "Perhaps I'll court the lass - my parents would approve of a woman with such a large fortune."

"Enough," William ground out. "She is mine."

Richard snickered. "Come now, she will be in camp with us - I'll even stay away a few nights here and there so you can call on her. I'll share her with you."

Tavington felt Trellim shift restlessly on his other side. The two Officers had been speaking a little loudly and they lowered their voices again.

"That is very generous of you," William rolled his eyes. "But I think I'll marry her and keep her all to myself, just the same."

"If you can cool her temper," came Richard's whisper.

"Hmm. If." Tavington agreed quietly.

"If not, I'll take a crack at her," Bordon quipped.

"Is it not enough, Richard," William said primly, "that I have Burwell, Banastre, the Simms family _and_ that Watson to contend with? No, Captain. Be satisfied with your Miss Jutland."

Bordon chuckled again.

"Sir," Trellim whispered. "Someone is coming."

Suddenly alert, the Officers listened and watched as someone - a man - strolled up the street that ran along the Square.

Beth must have heard, she lifted her head from her knees and tried to stare past the circle of light toward the approaching man. His footsteps were louder now, crunching along the gravel path leading the lovers seat where she sat.

"Hold still," Tavington murmured. His heart pounded in his chest and he dared to hope...

His hopes were crushed with a man of African decent stepped into the circle of light.

Beth gasped and lurched from the seat, backing away slowly. She whispered something, William could not hear what. Then the man held something out to her.

"Are you Miss Martin?" He said. "I was given five pounds to give you this."

"Goddamn it!" Tavington cursed. Burwell was not coming, he was sending Beth a note of explanation. "Seize him!"

The Dragoons surged from the bushes all around. Beth gasped with fright and stepped back further as the man was seized.

"I didn't do nuthin!" He cried out.

Tavington strode forward and ripped the note from Beth's limp grip. Ignoring her distress and fear, he began to read at once by the light of the lantern.

_Tavington,_

_Nice try. _

_Please inform Miss Martin that the two of us will discuss her betrayal at length when next I see her. _

_I have the honor to be,_

_Colonel Burwell etc._

::::

That was it. Tavington tightened his lips and curled the missive in his fist.

"He was warned," he ground out to Richard who had come to stand at his side. "Goddamn it!"

"Let me see," he held out his hand and William gave him the crumpled missive.

"Hmm, so it would seem," Bordon mused. "So, we'll need to question this one." He pointed at the very frightened African.

"Quite obviously," Tavington sneered.

"I don't know nutthin!" The man repeated. "I just got five pounds to give the girl a letter, thats all!"

"By whom?" Bordon stepped closer and began the interrogation at once. "Answer truthfully and no harm will come to you. You may even be rewarded, we could free you and protect you."

"I want all that," the African said - confirming Bordon's suspicions that he was a slave. "I wanna be freed, but I don't know nuthin'."

"We shall see," Bordon said. He had ways of drawing out all sorts of information, information that people did not even know they had.

"I was just walking along, on an errand for my master," the slave offered without being asked. "And this man - a large man with dark hair. He comes up to me and hands me the letter and five pounds. Says to give it to Miss Martin, she's waitin' in the Square. It wasn't out of my way much so I said I'd do it!"

"Thats it?" Bordon was disappointed. He could tell when people were lying and he strongly suspected that this slave was telling the truth. "Give me more details of the man who approached you."

The African did so, but he indicated a far taller man, with greater girth across the shoulders than Colonel Burwell.

"Marion?" Bordon suggested.

"Perhaps," Tavington said. His eyes had been on Beth for a while now, watching as she fidgeted fearfully with her fingers. Her eyes darted at all the Dragoons - she was surrounded. At one point she took a step toward William, seeking solace and reassurance but then stopped short as she remembered their altercation. She hung her head, then, and wrapped her arms around herself. And there she had remained, huddled in on herself in silence.

"How did Burwell know, Richard?" Tavington asked his adjutant. His eyes were still on Beth, however. He suspected her, first and foremost, regardless of Burwell's supposed threat to discuss her 'betrayal' when next they met. He could written that to cover for her, in an attempt to make her appear innocent.

"I don't know," Richard admitted. He handed Tavington the missive and William placed it in his pocket.

"Miss Martin," William said softly and she raised her eyes to his nervously. "Do you know who might have warned him?"

The silence stretched as the two Officers studied Beth.

She drew a ragged breath, her eyes darted back and forth between them. A cold chill traced William's spine.

"I... How am I supposed to know that?" She asked in a tremulous voice. "What did the letter say?"

William stiffened, his face turned to stone, his suspicions roused once more.

Beth swallowed, her eyes wide with fear.

"Perhaps he worked it out on his own," she said. "He's clever enough. He probably suspected a trap from the start."

William stepped up closer and Beth craned her neck to meet his gaze.

"Hmm," checking over his shoulder to be sure no one was within earshot, he kept his voice low, studying her face by the light of the lantern. "I agree, Burwell is a clever one. However," He loomed over her, nose to nose, his expression menacing. "I think it far more likely that he was forewarned."

Her face blanched and she recoiled from him. Tavington drew in a sharp breath, his suspicions confirmed. He stared at her, breathing heavily with pent up fury.

"Listen to me very carefully now, Beth," He whispered dreadfully. "I promise you... As the Lord is my witness I vow, that if I ever discover you warned Burwell," he paused when she shook her head violently. Ignoring her protest, he continued implacably. "I will beat you myself. Do you understand? I will _flog_ you, Beth, to within an _inch_ of your life."

Beth swallowed hard and stared back at him, wild eyed with fear as he loomed over her with murderous intent, his face like thunder.

Bordon watched gravely, then turned away from the scene. He beckoned to one of his Officers and ordered him to take the slave away for more questioning. He then commanded the Dragoons to disperse, sensing that if William decided Miss Martin was guilty, he would want as few people to learn of it as possible for now. After all, it would be a major embarrassment for William to have been so duped by her. He faced being a laughing stock and right now, Bordon's main duty was to keep William's reputation intact.

:::

The Dragoons began to disperse, only a handful remained. Beth barely noticed as she gazed up at Tavington, frozen to the spot with fear. He was becoming more impatient by the moment, she sensed, which only served to increase her anxiety.

She swallowed hard and thought furiously. How _would_ she react right now if she _was_ innocent? After all that she had been through with William - after all he had _put_ her through. On top of all that, what would she do if he accused her, threatened to beat her to within an inch of her life. How would she react to that if she was, indeed, innocent.

Why, she would be furious! It would be the last straw!

_You already thought through all of this,_ she admonished herself. _You already know what to say._

Beth gathered herself and raised herself to full height. Which was not very tall but the change was dramatic, instant. Tavington frowned, no longer looming. She placed her hands at her sides, balled them into fists.

"You dare," she hissed. "After everything you've put me through these last few days - this just takes the cake! You _dare_ accuse _me_!"

William's eyes widened with surprise and he drew slightly away from her. This was not the reaction he expected. Denials, yes, begging to be believed, but this? _She_ was accusing _him_!

"You dare! Though I should have known! As soon as that man passed me the letter it was clear Burwell was not coming - I should have known then that you'd blame me!"

Instead of begging or taking the defensive, Beth began an onslaught. William could only stare at her as she raged in a hissing voice that grew steadily louder without her seeming to realise it. Her face was twisted with rage, her dark eyes flashing.

"_I'm_ the first person you suspect! But how many others knew of this design? You won't even tell me what he said in the missive - where did he write it? When? This afternoon, perhaps? Let me see," she tapped her lip and her tone became mocking. "Perhaps it was when he heard that I was at the _Assembly Hall for four hours in your company?!"_

Her voice began to rise in pitch and volume. She stabbed her finger into his chest, emphasizing each point with a hard poke. Tavington could only watch her, stunned to silence. Even Bordon's eyes bulged, having never seen anything like it. She was making a damned good argument so far, Richard pinioned.

"You came to collect me _yourself, _William!" Another poke to his chest, she would leave a bruise if she continued. "How many people saw me climb in and out of that carriage, with you escorting me as a courtier escorts his lady?" She threw her arms up in the air, clearly frustrated. "I was supposed to sneak away here, on my own, at the appointed time - not spend the afternoon with you! It was a _dead_ give away!"

"Honestly!" She continued to rage. "Who comes to the Square dressed like this? Especially when one is trying to escape! I don't even have so much as a _carry_ bag! Harry knows I have more sense than this! I'd wear serviceable woolens," she held her hand up and began counting off points from her fingers. "I'd wear proper boots, not these stupid slippers. I'd have an overcoat and I would have a bloody carry bag! And my maid, come to think of it! I'd never leave without Mila and he knows it! And I would never wear a bloody gown fit for a bloody ball!"

The remaining Dragoons listened in silence, watching Beth rage up at Tavington. Who stared down at her in utter silence. Wilkins, Simms, Michael and Marcus Middleton, a handful of others. Beth barely noticed them as they exchanged astonished looks. It all came pouring out of her, all of her frustrations and fury, her heartbreak over William's treatment.

Of course, she _was_ guilty of warning Burwell, but her fury had taken hold of her and she unleashed it now.

"But no," she continued. "You wanted to see me in this stupid dress! You wanted to play that trick on me, that cruel, _horrible_ trick! And now you accuse me! He won't have come alone - he would have had lookouts all the way through town! What if they had seen your Dragoons taking up places within the bushes, did you think of that? There are houses - right there!" She waved her arm toward the street. "Perhaps you failed to notice his lookouts! Perhaps there are servants at the Assembly Hall in Burwell's employ! Perhaps this is _your_ fault! Did you think of that? _Your fucking fault! _But you go ahead, William. _Blame_ me! _Accuse_ me! Put a noose around my neck and _hang_ me for treason!"

Beth was screaming toward the end and she cut short, panting, glancing wild eyed at the few remaining Dragoons. One in particular caught her eye - the one with the ruined, scarred face. His broad, cruel smile twisted his face, making him look grotesque. She shuddered with revulsion and took several deep breaths, smoothing her skirts down with nervous hands as she tried to calm herself.

Tavington watched her in silence. Rarely was he ever so off balance, though he managed to keep his uncertainty from showing on his face just now. She had made some damned fine arguments but his instincts told him she was lying. And his instincts were never wrong.

He wished he could ask his adjutant's opinion right then, but to do so would show his uncertainty, his weakness. And that he would never do. Instead, he hardened his resolve.

His face stone once more, he reached up and cupped her cheeks with gentle fingers and loomed over her again. His gaze was intent, implacable and his cold voice carried easily to the last of the Dragoons nearby. After her screaming session, he needed to salvage some of his pride in front of his men.

"Beth, if you are lying to me..." He shook his head imperceptibly. "If I learn that you did, indeed, warn Burwell of this plot, my threat stands. _I - will - flog - you. To within an inch of your life, myself._ Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," her eyes glittered with anger and... hatred? No, surely not. She was in love with him, he knew she was. No, anger only.

"Very well," he lowered his hands and turned his back on her. "We are leaving. Now."

True to his word, he strode away, leaving her in Bordon and Arthur Simms care.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Clinton read the missive and then dropped it on a side table. He raised his eyes and met both William's and Beth's gazes. The two shared a chase, sitting across from the Commander in Chief in the brightly lit chamber.

"Well." He said softly. "To say that I am disappointed would be an understatement."

Tavington's face was stone but Beth blushed crimson.

"Child," Clinton addressed her now. "What in the world were you thinking, wearing a dress like that to your 'rescue'? You should have been wearing clothing for travel - and a cloak with a hood to cover your head and conceal your identity."

Beth shot a hard glance at William before responding. "I'm sorry, Sir. I wasn't thinking."

"Hmm, well, you are a young woman. Perhaps you can not be held to blame," he shifted his gaze to William. "You should have known better, however. This was your mission, Tavington. You should have made Miss Martin change at once."

Tavington inclined his head coldly, accepting the rebuke.

"Do you have any idea how this happened? How he was warned?"

"Yes, Sir," William said crisply. "It is my belief that he was having Miss Martin watched. The two of us dined together this evening. I suggest we should interrogate the servants for spies - perhaps some of them are in Buwell's employ."

Beth's eyes widened and she stared at William with incredulity. She had given him that argument, almost word for bloody word!

"Hmm, you may be right," Clinton said. "There are rebels high and low, I'm afraid. It will be done. What else?"

"Sir, I had my men move into position after dusk. At 5pm, exactly two hours before the appointed time. I had Wilkins and Bordon secure the area. Our sentries reported there were no loiterers along the street or in the park itself. However, if a rebel lookout had been posted on a balcony of one of the manor houses across the road, he would have had a clear line of sight of the meeting place. He, the lookout, could quite possibly have seen my Dragoons take up their positions after dusk."

Beth shifted beside him and Tavington turned his head to her. She pursed her lips indignantly and frowned furiously.

_They were my arguments! He is telling them to Clinton as though he thought of them himself!_

William sensed the cause of her anger. He shrugged lazily and shifted his gaze back to Clinton.

"Hmm," Clinton tightened his lips. "I see. You should have had those houses secured, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Indeed I should have, Sir. I didn't want to rouse suspicion, however," Tavington said as though he _had_ considered securing the balconies. He rushed on to divert the Commander from more accusations of Tavington's incompetence. "Bordon and Wilkins are questioning the occupants of the three most likely manors. Bordon will inspect each balcony for signs that there was indeed a lookout posted. You will have my full report in the morning."

"Very good," Clinton murmured. "I can not tell you how disappointed..." He trailed off and heaved a sigh. "There is nothing we can do about it now, however. This note, it worries me," he picked the letter up again, reading it through quickly. "I fear for Miss Martin's safety."

His lifted his gaze to Beth and she frowned - no one had revealed the contents of the letter to her yet.

"As do I, Sir. Perhaps we should think about removing her from the Putman's residence. I could protect her far better if she was living in the Tisdale residence, she would be surrounded by Dragoons there."

Beth gasped and shot him a furious glance. A small smile quirked his lips, he liked that idea very much even if she did not.

"No, I do not believe that will be necessary," Clinton said and Tavington's smile fled.

"What does the note say, Sir?" Beth asked. "I haven't been told - I didn't realise there was anything about me in it at all."

Clinton considered not telling her, he didn't want her to be unduly frightened. Still, she needed to be aware of the danger. He began to read aloud.

_Tavington,_

_Nice try. _

_Please inform Miss Martin that the two of us will discuss her betrayal at length when next I see her. _

_I have the honor to be,_

_Colonel Burwell etc._

::

Beth gasped. Thinking fast, she pressed her hand to her throat and swallowed hard, feigning fear. It served to prove all over again what a clever man her fiancé was - for him to write such, freeing her of suspicion.

"Sweet Lord," she murmured. "Betrayal... I... I do not believe I wish to have that discussion with him, Sir."

"No, nor do I," Clinton said. "Never fear, you are under my protection."

"Thank you, Sir," she said with breathy relief. "I am sorry tonight was a failure, Sir. You were right, I was quite silly to wear this dress."

She shot Tavington an insinuating glance and he scowled right back.

"I do not blame you, child," Clinton said, not noticing their exchange or the tension between them. "You have done your part, and I am grateful to you. I could wish for better results," he shot Tavington a hard look. "But I certainly do not blame you, Miss Martin."

"Thank you, Sir," Beth lowered her gaze demurely.

"Might I suggest Sir," Tavington said now, "that we at least post sentries around the Putman manor in case a rebel tries to attack Miss Martin in her own home?"

Beth stiffened - that sounded very much like an attempt to _guard_ her. She swallowed, understanding at once that Tavington did not believe her - despite her arguments in the Square, despite his covering for her now to Clinton, he still suspected her of warning Burwell.

"That might be a good idea," Clinton replied. "Child, do not distress yourself so, the sentries will keep out of your way, they will not hinder your movements. They are there for your protection only. Now, the Simms will be leaving Charles Town shortly, in the next few weeks. Mrs. Simms offer to house you still holds, whether you choose to marry her son or not. The Green Dragoons will be leaving as well, at approximately the same time. I myself will be departing for New York. I would like for you to leave with the Simms, when they do."

"Sir, won't I be safe enough to remain here with my Uncle? I've lived with him for two years and..." She trailed off, Clinton was shaking his head in the negative.

"I would much prefer it if you were gone from Charles Town. Burwell knows where to find you and tonight proves that he still has influence here. He could have you removed from the Putman's easily if he had a mind to."

"Perhaps he wouldn't," Beth replied. "I -"

"He singled you out in this letter, Miss Martin," Clinton overrode her firmly. "He knows you have betrayed him and he now poses a serious danger to your person. I doubt very much that he would stop at a 'discussion'."

Beth hesitated, suddenly uncertain of what to say. Charlotte had told her they would be leaving Charles Town in only a few more days. She would be gone well before the Simms or the Dragoons left.

_Just play along..._

"If you think its best, Sir, then I will accompany the Simms when they depart."

"Very good," Clinton said happily, pleased that he would not have to command her to leave. He took his Guardianship very seriously and would continue to do so until she was safely married. To Tavington, he hoped. The girl would be safest with the Lieutenant Colonel as her husband. Though it did not seem to be settled between them, he noted with a frown for Tavington.

"Sir," he said to William now. "Why don't you get Miss Martin home? The hour is late and she needs to be tucked up in bed, I think."

"Yes, Sir," Tavington rose and assisted Beth to her feet. He offered her his arm, which she took - appearances must be kept up in front of the Commander in Chief. It was the reason the two of them had sat so close on the chaise when they were first ushered into Clinton's presence.

As soon as they were in the corridor, however, Beth jerked her hand from Tavington's arm and the two strode stiffly all the way through the Assembly Hall, to the carriage waiting outside.

::::::::::::::::::


	25. Chapter 25 - Something Wild

**Chapter 25 - Something Wild **

_Late Sunday evening in the Tisdale residence..._

::::

"What are you thinking, William?" Bordon sat across from Tavington in the dining hall. The Colonel sat back in his chair, a whiskey glass held in a tight grip, he stared into the flames. Brooding, Bordon thought. William was brooding.

"What are _you_ thinking, Richard?" William retorted. "Did she send warning to Burwell?"

Bordon leaned back in his chair. "You think she did, don't you?" He asked finally.

Tavington tightened his lips, his cold gaze reflecting the flames from the fire.

"William, I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "If she did, then she is a damned good actress."

"You think she did not warn him?" Tavington asked hopefully.

"I do not know," Bordon spread his hands and shrugged. "She made some very fine arguments back in the Square. And as I told you, the Campbell's admitted that they allowed a man to watch the Square from their balcony."

The Campbell's had been told by the man that he was on Green Dragoon business, under orders of Tavington himself. It was utter rot, of course. The man had been one of Marion's rebels, Bordon was certain of it. The Campbell's were a Loyalist family and were suitably outraged over being so duped by a 'filthy rebel'. They would not face any repercussions.

"Richard, none of those arguments prove that she is innocent. Only that she is far more astute and clever than I gave her credit for. She could have warned him days ago."

"You have no proof."

"None, only my instincts and they are never wrong," Tavington said firmly.

"There's a first time for everything."

"Christ. You know what it means, if she didn't give warning?" Tavington said angrily.

"No, what?"

"That she was right and all of this if my fault. Many people would have seen her in my company, servants at the Assembly Hall could have spread gossip. If Burwell did enter Charles Town, he would have known it was a trap and slipped out again as soon as he learned where Beth was."

The grip the goblet in his hand became almost crushing. It had been folly, pure folly. He should have kept his distance from the girl, should never have gone near her. But he had not seen her since the ball, two whole days and their fight - their argument, it had driven him to madness. He had been almost deranged with his need to see her, to be near her.

And it might have cost him Burwell.

He jumped up and threw his goblet across the room, whiskey flew in a golden arc and the glass gave a satisfying 'smash' against the wall.

"My fault." He raged as he paced back and forth.

Bordon took it in his stride. Tavington rarely showed such displays of temper but the Colonel was just a man and needed to vent occasionally.

"I do not believe that, Sir."

"No?" Tavington turned to face him.

"No. Come now, no one has seen hide nor hair of Burwell. Gossip spreads like wild fire through this town," he sat forward intently. "If he, if _Colonel Burwell, Patriot Leader of the Continental Army_, had entered Charles Town, we would have known it. There would have been whispers, dozens of them. We heard of Marion's close position, but nothing of Burwell himself. No, Sir. He did not come to the Town."

"I need to determine if Beth sent warning to Burwell or not. What is your opinion, Richard?" His voice was sharp and he stared down at his adjutant intently.

"Christ," Bordon muttered with dawning realisation. "You don't trust your judgement when it comes to her?"

Tavington scowled. "Love." he spat with fury. "It addles ones wits. I confess it, she is confusing my judgement, making me act irrationally."

"It happens to us all," Bordon said mildly, thinking of his Harmony.

"Which is why," Tavington said crisply, "I need to know what you _think_!"

Bordon took a bracing sip and chose his words with care.

"Like you, I am suspicious by nature, William. I think he was warned. But she seemed very convincing in the Square. Either way, we will never know if she gave warning herself unless you have her put to the question."

Tavington stiffened, then walked over to the bureau to poor another whiskey.

"Are you certain she told no one, Sir? Perhaps she confided in the wrong person -"

Tavington was shaking his head. "I made it clear she was to tell no one. If she did confide it to anyone, she would still be guilty of treason."

"What does Clinton say?"

Tavington scowled, fury roaring within him as he remembered making his report to the Commander before returning home. He took a sharp drink of his whiskey. "He is 'disappointed', to say the least. All this effort, for nothing. It's an _embarrassment_. A _humiliation_!"

"I can imagine. We need a success, William. Tonight was too much of a failure."

"We need Marion the Fox," Tavington said decisively. "His capture will help Clinton forget the shame of my failure."

"Agreed."

"So. We focus on the Fox. According to the rumours - which were confirmed this evening, he is out in the countryside not far from here. We follow all trails."

"Very well, I'll have the Dragoons ready to leave at first light."

"Accept for Arthur - we shall let him attend this bloody picnic with Beth to get his mother off his back," Tavington growled. "Now - Ethan Cooke."

"The Loyalist you sent to Burwell with the letter you made Miss Martin write?" Bordon frowned.

"Just so. According to Trellim, Cooke has been playing both sides. It could be that _he_ warned Burwell. Cooke is not to be trusted and I want him bought in to custody."

Bordon nodded silently.

Scapegoat. The word hung in the air between them.

The courier, Ethan Cooke, would hang for treason. Richard said nothing to dissuade William. It was clear that the Officer was willing to go to extreme lengths to protect Beth in case she had committed treason. Richard was not quite sure how he felt about that.

"In the meantime, I want a guard set on Miss Martin," Tavington continued. "Clinton has agreed to having sentries posted at the Putman manor 'for Beth's protection'. However, they will report directly to me - I want to know where she goes, who she speaks to, what she does even if she heads to a bloody dressmaker to buy silks. When she leaves that house, I wish to know of it."

"William, what will you do if you discover she is guilty?"

Tavington hesitated. "Christ, I've made a rod for my own back. I can't allow Clinton to believe for one moment that she is guilty, it would reflect poorly on me. I have allowed him to believe she is an innocent self sacrificing Loyalist and he has become quite fond of her."

"That can't be a... Comfortable situation," Richard said carefully.

"It isn't," William tightened his lips.

_My darling, on my honor I vow to protect you, come what may._

"I made a very foolish promise to her, Richard," he confided quietly. " 'On my honor, I vow to protect you, come what may.' "

"Jesus," Richard whistled. He was silent for a few moments as he considered the vow. "But if she has committed treason, would it still hold?"

"Yes," William said instantly. "I have no proof of it, as you said. Perhaps I am merely being overly suspicious. As you say, one can not always rely on ones instincts."

Richard's eyebrows climbed his forehead. Never would he have thought William declare such a thing.

"However," William continued quietly with menace. "If I discover that she did indeed send warning, then my threat to her holds. I will cane her myself, to within an inch of her Goddamned life. I will do it quietly, however. No one will know of it. Besides, if she is my wife, I can punish her as I wish. No one would question it. She will not walk away unscathed, of this I vow."

Bordon nodded, almost pitying the girl who would certainly not get off lightly, if she was found guilty of betraying Tavington.

"Come, Sir," he said. "I am tired and Harmony is keeping my blankets warm. I prefer her company to yours."

"Hmm. I have no one to warm my blankets now - with the whore gone."

Bordon did not need to ask which 'whore' Tavington was referring to, Vera had not been allowed back in the Tisdale residence since the ball.

"You could always send for Linda or that Helen girl..."

"Yes... Linda..." Tavington nodded thoughtfully and stood, ready to walk from the dining hall. "See to it, would you?"

"Sir!" Richard protested at once. "Harmony is waiting!"

"Then she can wait a little longer, can't she."

It was not a request. Tavington vanished from the dining hall, to wait impatiently for Linda's arrival in his room.::::

It was Arthur Simms who knocked on Tavington's door, the Colonel saw with a smirk. Bordon had indeed been impatient to be with his Harmony, if he delegated the task to poor Simms.

"Thank you, Mr. Simms, that will be all," Tavington nodded at Arthur as Linda came into the room, he closed the door behind her.

Images of Beth in the dress he had commissioned for her had plagued him, consumed him, he was as hard as a rock and impatient for release. Reaching for the doxy, he began undressing her at once.

"Not even a 'hello'?" She asked tartly as her bodice was untied and pulled down around her waist.

"Hello, Linda," Tavington muttered.

With a squawk she was jerked around and William attacked her stays, desperate to free the doxies breasts.

"You make your living out of this," he grated. "Why would insist on wearing all this - stays and Christ - even a shift!" He frowned and pulled her cotton shift from her shoulders, it pooled around her waist. He jerked her around to face him again.

"You could simply ask me to turn, Sir!" Linda gasped, her curled braids flew around her and she found herself facing him once more.

"I _could_..." His smile was mocking. "But I won't..." With quick movements he pulled her dresses and shift down past her hips and she stepped out of the puddle of clothes. She stood before him, naked except for her stockings, which ended at the tops of her thighs and were held by garters. Lord, to see Beth like this.. He wondered how her breasts would look, he imagined they would be as heavy as Linda's but her youth would have them higher, firmer. "Unbind your hair, Linda."

The doxy reached up and began working on her hair, it quickly flowed around her shoulders. Not as long or as healthy as Beth's - whose weight of gold locks almost touched the top of her backside when it was unbound. His hands moved gently over Linda's breasts and she shivered.

"You never kiss me..." she complained in a quiet voice. Tavington was startled, then he barked a laugh.

"My gold is all the kiss you need, Linda," he chuckled again, he never kissed the whores he bedded.

"That woman came to me, she was horrid."

"What woman?" He asked distractedly

"I don't know her name, black hair... I saw her portrait in the hall on the way through this _very_ fine house."

"Ah, Vera. Questioned you herself did she?" His fingers tweaked her nipples.

"Yes. I'm used to mean women - had my share of run in's but she..." Linda's shudder had nothing to do with Tavington's fingers trailing down her stomach and dipping between her legs.

"Hmm, I will see to her, never fear," but not because her treatment of the doxy.

Vera had told Beth of his liaisons, had deliberately drove a wedge between him and his beloved, out of jealousy and spite. He would see to her... Only a matter of time.

"I don't only bed for gold, you know!" Linda's voice was peevish and Tavington was startled to see tears in her eyes.

He understood at once - the whore was in love with him! He shook his head and chuckled. "The way it is with us is perfect Linda. I pay you, you pleasure me, you leave. Or I leave, depending on where we are. You do not want me as a lover, I assure you."

"No? You think I can't handle the likes of you? I can give you anything you want," she paused deliberately, then said, "William..."

"William?" Amused now, he nuzzled his lips against her neck. "And what is it you think I want?"

"I can sense your need," she began pulling his ruffled shirt from his breeches. "I can sense the violence in you." She leaned forward and her tongue circled his nipple.

"Indeed." Tavington's tone was thoughtful. He enjoyed rough play occasionally but it was hard to find a doxy who would allow it. "Just what are you suggesting?"

Her teeth clamped down on his nipple - firmly, almost painfully. "I told you, anything you desire."

His tone ragged now, his fingers wound through her hair jerking her head back. "I will not take you as my lover, Linda. I will simply pay you more."

Her gaze was stricken. Panting heavily, she nodded. "Very well - but you must kiss me."

He drew a deep, angry breath - bargaining with a whore. Still, she may allow him to tie her to the bed, may allow him to... do other things...

"I can do that," he lowered to his knees before her and kissed her stomach, leaving a blazing trail lower to the top of her curls. Pushing her legs apart, he buried his mouth against her, his tongue licking and flicking, kissing and suckling. Linda cried out and bucked against him as he 'kissed' her quim until she thought she would die.

"Oh, William!"

He let it pass - she could call him by his name - she would do as he wished. He would tie her, slap her backside until it was red. Perhaps even give her the caning he had promised Beth...

Beth...

Christ - he wished it was her before him now, writhing against his mouth and clutching his hair. She would taste so much sweeter than Linda.

It did not take long. A few more suckles and kisses on her quim and Linda shuddered, almost dropped to her knees before him. She gripped his shoulders, the heavy weight of her breasts above him as she leaned against him for support.

"Now," Tavington said firmly. "Anything I wished, you said."

"For more gold - and a kiss," her breathing still ragged, she was finding it difficult to calm. "You know I did not mean between my legs."

"You enjoyed it," his tone was cold.

"Yes, as I have done in the past."

"You're adamant, I take it?"

"Yes."

Lord, the second woman to defy him, on the same evening no less. Perhaps he was losing his frightful edge. He would show her differently, come morning Linda would be terrified of him. Sated also, she would come back for more, but she would be too frightened to make any more demands.

"Very well," he cupped her face, his eyes cold - he had another condition and would brook no nonsense. "But you change your name this evening, Linda."

"To what?" She asked with surprise.

"Beth. For the rest of the night, your name is Beth."

Another stricken glance - she wanted him to desire _her_, not pretend he was with some other woman.

Still...

"Beth is a nice enough name, I suppose," she said quietly and Tavington smiled.

The deal was struck, the agreement made. He lifted her in his powerful arms and dropped her roughly to the bed.

::::::::

Tossing and turning, Beth finally conceded she would not be able to sleep and with a growl, she threw off her blankets and shrugged on her night robe.

A glass of milk, she decided. Just the thing she needed. Most Ladies would wake their maids for such, but Beth crept past the door to Mila's small room, the closet attached to Beth's room, and headed out into the corridor. She made her way downstairs toward the kitchen on silent feet, to not wake the house. A quick glance at the large clock showed it was one o'clock in the morning. She would be exhausted tomorrow, if she did not find sleep tonight.

As she drew closer, she saw light creeping beneath the kitchen door, and heard the quiet rumble of men's voices. The door was ajar and Beth peered through the gap. She stifled a gasp and jerked away from the door - the Green Dragoon with that terrible scar was in her house!

"Does Tavington suspect Beth?" She heard her Uncle's voice, and Beth relaxed with a sigh. These were the spies that her Uncle had placed in the Dragoons! She never would have thought that scarred man would be one of them! She peered through the door once more.

"Yes, I believe he does," another voice said.

"Shit, Trellim. We have to get her out of here then, as soon as possible. First thing in the morning!"

"I'm afraid that wont be possible -" Trellim began, but Mark cut him off.

"What? Why not? She told me he threatened to cane her!"

"To within an inch of her life," the scarred man quoted. "And he'd fuckin' do it, too."

Beth's mouth dropped open, the language! She had said the word herself, of course, but _still_!

"That's what I'm afraid of! We need to -"

"It's too bloody late!" The scarred man growled. "He's setting a guard on her, he wants to know her every movement, where she goes, who she speaks to, what she ate for bloody breakfast! We have first watch."

"Christ," Mark muttered. "She mentioned that Clinton approved of sentries to watch her 'for her protection'. But this? Shit, Banksia!"

"I'm sorry, Mark," to the other man said - Trellim, Beth thought. Which made the scarred man Banksia. "But Miss Martin isn't going anywhere for now."

Beth was overcome with rage, she threw the door open and stormed into the kitchen, startling the three men.

"Now see here!" She snapped furiously, rounding on them. "I am heartily sick and tired of being in Charles Town, under constant threat! If there is a way for my Uncle to spirit me out then you must do so! You said you have the first watch," she stabbed her finger first at Trellim, then Banksia. "Then you can get me out of here, right now!"

"And bloody risk exposing ourselves as spies to Tavington?" Banksia growled. "Cock and balls!"

Beth mouthed the obscenity, committing it to memory - it was not one she had ever heard before.

"Miss Martin," Mark said formally. "Allow me to introduce you to Robert Trellim and Neville Banksia."

Trellim removed his helmet and bowed politely, Banksia eyed her with open appreciation, she was in her nightgown after all.

"We both served with you father, Miss Martin, twenty years ago it was, now. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"And you, sir," Beth bobbed a small curtsy to Trellim. Banksia began to laugh, a deep rumble.

"Yeh, she has manners when she wants to, don't she?" His ruined face twisted around his grin. "Got a bloody temper to match her fathers though, don't she?"

"Yes, she does!" Beth snapped. "Do you really want to be on the receiving end of it now?"

"After that performance in the bloody Square?" Banksia leered. She thought he meant to smile but the scar twisted his face so it appeared as though he was leering. "I'd say no thanks! You're bloody scary!"

"Does he always curse like this?" She asked her Uncle, who nodded with resignation.

"He is behaving himself for you," Trellim scoffed. "He's usually much worse than this."

"I suppose I should be grateful then," Beth sniffed haughtily.

"You stood that bastard on his head, you did!" Banksia chortled as if the others had not spoken. "You should'a seen her, Putman! Hands on her hips and all! Poking him in the chest real hard - I'd reckon he's got bruises! Screaming her head off, I thought she'd go for his throat. We'd have had to grab her and drag her away from Charles Town then and there, if Tavington had've lost that fucking temper of his! I thought he'd cane her on the spot! I'm surprised he didn't!"

"Then you can take me out?" Beth asked, suddenly hopeful. "He doesn't believe me, Mr. Banksia! He knows I sent Harry warning I just know he does! And now he's set a guard on me! Sweet Lord, I just realised I won't be able to leave with my Aunt when she departs Charles Town! Not without being challenged - or without William being warned! He'll drag me right back here! I must get away now!"

"We'll get you out, Miss," Trellim said calmly. "We just need a little more time, is all."

"Beth, you can't go now, its past midnight. I won't have Trellim and Banksia expose themselves," Mark said sternly. "Their work amongst the Dragoons is too important, you are only a small part of it."

"So what then?" Beth walked over to a chair and sat down heavily. "More worrying? More 'just playing along'? I can't keep doing this."

"Just a couple more days, Miss Martin. When Tavington begins to relax his guard," Trellim assured her. "We'll hatch a plan and you will be able to leave with your Aunt."

"Marion's out there at Burwell's command," Banksia's tone became serious. "He's to wait until you're able to leave then he'll escort you on the back roads. Tavington can't drag you back if he can't find you."

"True, but it does mean we have to move quickly. Mrs. Selton must be ready to leave in the next few days. Marion can not remain for long out there or he will risk discovery. Tavington's already been warned that Marion is out there and is now focusing his efforts in finding him to make up for tonight's failure."

"Christ, Trellim," Mark muttered. "Perhaps we should send him back to Burwell?"

"No, Burwell wants Miss Martin escorted from Charles Town. Marion is to protect her all the way to Captain Martin's plantation."

It was strange to her, hearing her father addressed as Captain Martin, but then, these men had served in his unit. Another strange thing for her, that her father had been associated with these men at all! He had been a soldier, just like them, he had _led_ them in battle!

"Miss Martin," Trellim turned to her, his commanding tone interrupting her thoughts. "Are your belongings packed?"

"Mostly Sir."

"Finish packing," he commanded. "Hopefully you will be able to leave without incident as planned, in a few days. However, I want you to pack another, smaller bag, small enough to fit on a horse. If we have to get you out all in a rush, I want you ready to move on the instant."

"That means no bloody side trips," Banksia took it up, his voice a growl. "You stay right here, no visiting friends or shops. If we have to get you out, we aren't going to spend precious bloody minutes searching for you."

"Yes, Sir," Beth replied meekly. "Though I am supposed to attend a picnic today - can I go to that at least?"

The men hesitated, then Mark gave his permission.

"Of course you can - but no more after that, alright? You will need to stay within Trellim and Banksia's reach, as Banksia so eloquently explained."

"I will," she promised.

"Beth, go to bed," Mark said now. "I have more to discuss, your departure and other things."

"Very well." She poured her milk and with a nod to the men, obediently returned to her room.

**:::::::::::::::::::::**

Linda, somewhat stiff and sore, rose from the bed quietly so she did rouse the sleeping Officer. She gazed down at him with concern. Even while sleeping he was not relaxed, he shifted and twitched, restless. He lay naked, on his back, one arm pillowing his head, his handsome face set in a frown.

With a heavy sigh, she opened the curtains to let in some light and began picking up her clothes from the floor.

Holding them in a bundle against her naked body, she glanced over her shoulder at her reflection in the tall stand mirror. Her backside still bore red welts, though they seemed to be fading now. Tavington bore similar welts and marks on his body. She was pleased that he could take it as well as give it, just as she had sensed in him.

Her wrists hurt where the rope bit in a little too tightly and she was sore between her legs where he had taken her over and over again.

Still his rage had not seemed to be assuaged. She wondered what the Hell had happened to cause such fury She wondered who this Beth person was and what she had done to him to cause such anger. She wondered if the bargain they had struck had been worth it.

But then she remembered his lips on hers, his kisses at times crushing, at times tender. Yes, she thought as she gazed at the fading welts with a smile, it had been worth it.

"Christ," a harsh groan from the bed, Tavington was rising.

Her heart pounded as she watched him. He was lithe and athletic, and he moved with the grace of the panther. She had seen a panther once before, in a menagerie which had once passed through Charles Town. He reminded her of a wild animal, a wild, angry animal. She schooled her expression to indifference and turned away before he caught her gazing at him. Like a wild animal, Tavington seized on any weakness and exploited it with ruthless precision. Linda would not give him the opportunity, if she could help it. Ignoring her own pains, she began to dress.

"I will not be sitting a saddle comfortably for a few days," he muttered as he pulled on his shirt. She thought he sounded calm now. Relaxed. He was not using the tense and cold voice he had used for most of the night. Linda stifled a self satisfied smile, suspecting that she had helped to calm his demons.

"It sounds as though I pushed you too hard," she said nonchalantly. "I will go easy on you next time."

Despite her matter of fact tone, Linda held her breath and waited for his response.

_Please say there'll be another time, please!_

"I can take it," he snorted as he pulled on his breeches. "You were the one screaming 'scarlet, scarlet' when I so much as touched you."

'Scarlet', her chosen safety word, in case things went too far. He would stop, if she said - or in some cases _screamed_, 'scarlet'.

Linda ignored his barb and glowed with pride. It had taken a lot for him to get her to use her safety word and he damned well knew it. Still, he had not given her the reassurance she desperately needed.

"And yet," she said in a dry tone. "You say you will not sit your horse comfortably. Perhaps _you_ should choose a safety word?" She arched an eyebrow, assumed an expression of contempt. " '_Mamma's boy_' perhaps? Or '_milksop_'?"

He had done his share of bellowing, after all.

His pale eyes widened with astonishment, then his expression shifted to irritation. Two long strides and he grabbed her by her arms and pulled her against him. His mouth crashed against hers, his teeth nipping and biting her lip. She collapsed against him with a low groan, gripped his shoulders and bit him right back.

Just as suddenly, he released her.

"The first part of your payment," he said coldly, in clipped tones, utterly composed. It was a sharp contrast to Linda, who had to grip the bedpost for support as she breathed raggedly and her chest heaved.

"The kiss. Now," he handed her a small pouch. "The second part."

Despair overwhelmed her as she took the proffered pouch. Again, she schooled her face to smoothness, not giving her inner turmoil away. Tavington was already turning his back on her, buttoning his breeches and pulling on his boots.

"I don't know what time I will return here this evening," he said over his shoulder as he strode for the door. "Be here before nine o'clock and wait for me."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, her knees gave way and she dropped to the bed. She reluctantly opened the pouch and gasped despite herself. She would have had to work a whole month to earn the contents of the purse! He had never paid her so much before. She would not need to bed any other man! For one month, anyway.

She was prudent, however, and decided to keep a few of her favorite patrons. She suspected that this wonderful new bargain with Tavington could not last. Linda finished dressing and left the room quietly.

"Linda?" A familiar voice said behind her. "I was hoping to catch you, Bordon said Tavington sent for you."

"Harmony! I've not seen you for days!" The two women embraced. Though Harmony held down a legitimate job as a barmaid, she had never stared down her nose at Linda or the other girls who plied their trade at the tavern.

"I know, I keep meaning to come down and see everyone, but..." Harmony trailed off.

"Being Captain Bordon's mistress has stopped you? I would not have expected _you_ to walk around with your nose in the air!" Linda smiled to take the sting off her words.

"Well, you know, rogering a Captain and all. I have to be careful who I choose as my companions - I have to raise my standards..."

Linda laughed outright.

"Then that means I can't take you for breakfast, I'm afraid," she said in a haughty tone. "Pity, I have a fair amount of coin here," she shook her new pouch under Harmony's nose.

"Oh, well, in that case!" Harmony giggled. Her tone turned serious. "We could hear you, was he hurting you?"

"Don't worry, it's a new arrangement and it suits me fine," Linda sighed with contentment. "Come, I'll tell you all about it."

A woman in silks stepped into the corridor from an adjoining chamber and for a moment Linda's heart almost stopped. That hateful woman from the tavern, the one in the oil painting!

Was _she_ Beth? She wondered for the first time. The woman had made Linda feel like dirt. She had felt shabby in her woolens while the woman stared down her nose in all her finery and silks, demanding Linda tell her all about her consort with Tavington. The hateful woman had smiled with contempt when she realised Linda was a doxy and therefore no threat to her.

But no, this one was far younger. Her face was kind - though somewhat sad and her eyes were haunted. She stopped dead when she saw the two "adventurous" women, her eyes wide and uncertain.

"Miss Tisdale," Harmony said, a little warily. Linda linked her arm through her friends, both women expected to be censured by the woman in silks. They both expected to be told to leave and never return. They expected haughtier, snobbery, disdain -

"Miss Jutland," the woman said quietly. "How do you do?"

"Quite well," Harmony relaxed slightly. "And yourself?"

"Very well, thank you."

All politeness. And all lies. Clearly the young woman was not 'very well' at all.

"I heard you are to be married soon," Harmony said brightly. "Congratulations."

"Yes, I am," finally a little happiness lit the woman's face. "Soon. And then we ride for the Santee. Mr. Ferguson tells me you are going as well?"

"I am. I'm glad to hear you're going also. It will be good to have a friend in camp," Harmony said, wary again. Linda squeezed her friends arm, she sensed Harmony was trying to determine exactly how she would be treated in camp by the Officers wives.

Mary startled, her eyes widened and she hesitated.

"Indeed," she said noncommittally. Then she nodded politely and walked away. Both women understood, of course. The silk clad woman was obviously a Gentlewoman of high birth, the strictures must be adhered to or her own reputation could suffer. Still, she was not outright rude and for that Harmony was grateful.

"Christ," Linda muttered. "Who is she? Who are these people, and that horrid woman in the painting that confronted me? And who the _hell_ is Beth?"

"Ah, yes, Beth..." Harmony gazed at Linda, an expression of concern on her face. "Linda, you need to know, right now, that despite this arrangement you've entered into, Tavington is in love with Beth Martin and has been trying to secure her as his mistress since he met her days ago. Bordon told me last night that Tavington now wishes to marry her. I don't know everything, and I will tell you what I do know, but you need to be aware - he is in love with another woman."

"And I'm nothing but a doxy," Linda sighed sadly. "I know, he will never take me as more than that. But I will enjoy what I can of him, while I can."

"Very well. You promised me breakfast? Lets go, I've so much to tell you!"

:::::::::::::

Later that same afternoon, after Arthur and Colin Ferguson had their picnic with Beth and the other girls, the lads rode out of Charles Town to meet with Tavington for a training exercise. Most of the Dragoons had already been in the saddle for most of the morning, scouring the countryside for word of Francis Marion, the Fox.

Tavington now shifted in his saddle, trying to find a more comfortable position. Despite her small size, Linda had a strong arm.

_'Mamma's boy'._

He curled his lip as he watched his newly recruited Green Dragoons, busy with their exercises. He had chosen Arthur Simms to lead them to test his mettle, to see if he had any talent for commanding. He was doing well so far, the new recruits snapping to attention when he past them, reacting instantly when he instructed them.

_'Milksop'_.

William had not been the one with tears and snot running down his face, begging for it to stop, begging for release. His cock hardened at the memory, he would be aching all day until this evening if he kept thinking of their exploits of the previous night. Tavington eased the muscles in his shoulder and gave an inaudible sigh. He was replete, at ease, relaxed. Which was quite shocking considering the previous nights failure to capture Burwell and his suspicions that Beth had betrayed him. Linda, it seemed, could satisfy him as well she promised she could.

Beth.

He curled his lip again, frustration rising. He had gone to see her earlier that morning before taking the Dragoons out scouting. He had sat with her for over an hour and what did she do? Nothing! What did she say? Not a single Goddamned word. She completely ignored him - he may as well have not been there. Mark Putman and his pretty wife had chatted amiably enough, but Beth? Not one word, barely even a glance.

He would try again in the evening, he decided. If he kept going to see her, her temper would eventually cool. Take her a gift, perhaps?

He tightened his lips, suddenly vexed with himself. Cool _her_ temper? What about her cooling his? She had betrayed him, he knew it in his very bones. Though she had denied it so brilliantly, her face blazing anger and indignation as she screamed her accusations up at him -

"He's good," Bordon interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes, he is," Tavington agreed as he watched Simms. Arthur had told him in detail of his picnic with Beth, he had repeated the entire conversation almost word for word. Though nothing of importance had been said. Beth had been mostly quiet - she was there to be seen with Arthur to help the boy with his predicament, nothing more. "A real feel for command."

"No, Sir," Trellim said. "Well, yes, Mr. Simms does at that, but we were discussing Mr. Ferguson."

Tavington turned his gaze to the boy as he shot his pistol at a target from the back of his horse. He hit the target, every time and reloaded his pistol with lightening quick precision.

"Yes, I remember him saying he was a sharp shooter, the first time I met him."

"He certainly is. I wouldn't mind taking him into my unit, if you would allow," Trellim asked.

"Very well. Marcus and Michael Middleton can -"

"I want them, Sir," Bordon said firmly. "Excellent riders and they are both big lads. I will find good use for them both."

"And the others?" Tavington asked his Captains. Wilkins chose a couple lads, Trellim chose another, Stephen Howard.

"Good, we are in agreement then and the new Dragoons have their units. Take charge of them now, we will spend a few more hours trying to pick up Marion's scent."

The Green Dragoons formed up their units, Bordon took position behind Tavington as was proper as the Lieutenant Colonel's second in command. The regiment set off at a thunderous gallop.

:::::::::

Fruitless, Tavington fumed as he sat on a chaise opposite Beth, paying only half a mind to Putman's prattle.

Fruitless to chase after Marion, fruitless sitting with Beth who was still resolved to ignore him.

The entire day in the dust and heat, and no sign of Marion. The last hour sitting with Beth, and not a word said. Finally giving up, he rose abruptly. Beth glanced up, startled when he grabbed her hand in his.

"Until tomorrow, Miss Martin," even he heard the threat in his voice. His gaze pierced hers and he kissed her knuckles lightly, a lingering kiss as he searched her face for... anything... any reaction. Sign of her betrayal, sign of her love.

Eyes locked on hers, he wrapped his hand around her small wrist and turned her hand over. He kissed her palm slowly, his lips drifting to kiss the tips of each of her fingers. He could feel her pulse quicken beneath his grip.

Her breath hitched, her liquid brown eyes grew warm, her cheeks became flushed.

"Just as I thought," he whispered down at her, both taunting and smug. "You do still love me."

Beth's eyes widened indignantly and she jerked her hand away.

It was too late, however, he had seen to the heart of her. He laughed at her and strode from the room.

Many hours later, when he was back at the Tisdale's, he sent for Linda again, to help calm his frustrations.

::::::::::::::::

Linda checked the bonds holding Tavington's wrists to the head board, ensuring he would not be able to free himself. He was breathing steadily, relaxed and waiting calmly, composed, despite the blindfold across his eyes. She straddled his stomach and gazed down at him, deliberating what to do next.

He'd had his turn, her backside was aching from his slaps, she knew it must be bright red. Tears had coursed her cheeks, though she did not try to stop him. Finally he had either become too bored or to aroused to continue and had entered her with a hard thrust, quickly bringing them both to completion.

And he whispered "Beth" the entire time.

Linda decided it had to stop. After the things Harmony had told her earlier that day, after deducing the depth of feeling Tavington had for the Gentlewoman, Linda decided she did not much like being called Beth, the woman who held the Officer's heart on a string.

No, as much as she enjoyed being with him, she could tolerate being the other woman no longer.

She ran her fingernails down his chest, hard enough to leave red, raised lines across his unbroken skin. Leaning forward, she took one flat nipple into her mouth, licking, then nipping it to a point.

"Ah..." Tavington sighed. "Beth."

No.

She stopped her biting.

"Linda," she said firmly, and watched his face, his expression settled into a frown.

That's what she would do, she decided. Pleasure him and then stop as soon as he said the other woman's name. She repeated the process on the other nipple, circling with her tongue, threatening with her teeth. He said nothing, but she could feel him relax beneath her.

Then, she shuffled lower, now straddling his thighs as her fingernails traced down the valley between his ribs, scouring lower down to the soft hairline of his stomach. His breathing changed, deepened. Her fingers lingered just above his heavy erection, almost touching. Growing frustrated with the _almost_ touch, he bucked his hips up and down with a growl.

"Beth!" He snapped. "Now!"

"Linda." She removed her hand and lifted herself off of him.

"Christ," he muttered and jerked his bonds, then settled down again.

Linda smiled, he did not like showing weakness, this man. Not at all. He could not fool her though, all she needed to do was gaze down at his engorged and weeping cock to see the truth. She trailed her fingers across his length and it twitched beneath her touch. Her fingers wrapped around him and she stroked, slowly, then faster, faster.

Tavington began to breath raggedly, Linda studied his face, his parted lips. His eyes were covered with the the blindfold, though she knew the usual pale blue of his eyes be darkened with pleasure. She pumped faster, straddling one of his muscular thighs to rub her aching quim against him.

"Beth!" He gasped.

Again, she stopped. It killed her, but she did it. Removed her hand from his cock and all sensation ceased for him.

"Christ!" Tavington bellowed, infuriated. A shiver of fear shot along her spine at his rage, but she kept her voice steady.

"Linda." She corrected.

"Not when you are in this room!" He hissed. "You are Beth, when you are in here! You _agreed_ to it!"

"For that first night, yes. But no more," Linda decided to gamble. She had to force the words past her lips, but she said them. "Agree to it, or I will walk out of here, right now. And I will not unbind you. I wonder who will release you... Bordon, perhaps?"

"You wouldn't dare!" Tavington sputtered. "If you leave me tied, I will track you down! There will not be a single safe place in the Colonies for you to hide!"

Linda swallowed hard against her fear and drew a sharp, steadying breath. Gambling again, she gathered her courage, then she raised her arm back and slapped him full across the face. His head jerked to one side.

"You dare!" Tavington's quiet tone was ice, his face contorted with rage. Linda's large handprint showed on one cheek. She feared she'd gone too far.

But no, what she had just done, the slap, that was what this was all about. Her own buttocks was still smarting from his slaps.

"Yes, I dare," she said as she caressed one side of his face with the back of her fingers, up and down slowly, feeling that days growth of stubble. Her fingers gently drifted down under his chin to stroke the other side, tracing his reddened cheek.

"I'm going to make you howl," he said with quiet menace. "_Linda_." He said her name slowly and deliberately.

A thrill of fear shot through her, but a slow smile crept across her face, a smile of triumph. He would not call her Beth again.

She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to make you howl first, William," a quiet promise. She removed his blindfold and was both gratified and relieved to see his pale, piercing eyes burning with desire.

Nevertheless she did not trust his temper and she felt it prudent to keep him bound for now. With a small smirk, she moved down his body. She positioned herself above him, her lips a breath away from his purple, engorged cock. He smirked back at her, a glint in his eyes, as his prick twitched with anticipation.

Enough playing - Linda and Tavington both needed more now. With a quiet sigh, she took him into her mouth and began to suckle him. Her tongue twirling his length as she moved her head up and down. Tavington dropped his head back against the pillow, his body taut and tight with the effort to not buck his hips. His nostrils flared and he lifted his head again to watch Linda working on his member.

The tingle and tension increased, his pouch twitched, he was close, so close. He reached the point of no return and he bucked and thrashed and lost control despite himself. He jerked against his bonds so hard the wooden headboard creaked in protest. She pulled away and her fingers wrapped around him, pumping.

"Say it," she commanded harshly, her voice thick with need.

"Say what?" He taunted.

"Shall I stop?"

Tavington rasped a laugh.

"Linda," he said, his tone both obedient _and_ taunting. "Finish what you started. _Linda_. In your mouth. Now."

"As you command, Lieutenant Colonel Tavington."

He rasped his laugh again and then mirth ceased as her mouth enveloped him once more. The tingle before the surge, and then fire coursed through his veins. He growled a long low growl as his seed pulsed in to her mouth. He arched his back and pulled his bonds as the flames carried him, finally abating.

"Linda," his eyes were closed, he did not see her smile of triumph. Though he suspected she was well pleased with herself as she curled up beside him. Self satisfaction fair oozed from her.

"Are you going to untie me?" He arched an eyebrow, gazing at the top of her head.

"When you aren't so angry, when the sting of the slap fades."

"Either way, I'm going to make you howl."

"Promise?" She smirked up at him. He rolled his eyes heavenward.

"After I've had a nap." He said with a tired sigh.

Linda laughed. "The staying power of this one," she quipped and untied him.

He reacted instantly. She gasped with fear as he violently threw her to her back, pinning her arms above her head and holding her body down with his weight.

"You have no idea what you've awoken, have you?" He said down at her, his gaze intent.

Linda swallowed hard. She slowly, deliberately, opened her legs wide, wrapped her ankles over his thighs.

"Something wild, I hope..."

::::::::::::::::

The next two days passed exactly the same way. He bedded Linda at night, she helped to calm his fury. In the morning he kissed her and sent her on her way with a full purse, she was not his mistress and he would not allow her to think it.

He visited Beth after breakfast, trained with the Dragoons, scouted for Marion. He only found tracks and traces, but at least he knew for certain the man, with a good seventy militiamen, were near.

Why he would still be so close to Charles Town was a mystery. Initially, both William and Richard believed Marion's presence was in relation to the previous Sunday nights mission. It was their opinion that Marion had been on hand to help Burwell get away after 'rescuing' Beth. But the failed trap had taken place days ago! Why should he still be there, risking discovery and capture?

Tavington doubled his efforts to find him, determined to make up for his failure.

He visited Beth each evening. And each visit was the same - she said not a word to him. And she kept her hands in her lap, her fingers linked, preventing him from taking one and trying to kiss her again. She would not allow him to touch her in any way.

William was almost beside himself, he had never encountered such a stubborn soul before! Finally however, early on the Thursday morning, he had a break through with the girl which changed everything for him.


	26. Chapter 26 - The Declaration of Love

**Chapter 26 - The Declaration of Love**

"He's here again," Cilla said from her look out at the window. "Tavington."

"I know who you mean, Cilla," Beth sighed. They both heard the knock on the door and shortly later, Marcus announced that Tavington was there to visit with Beth.

He came twice a day, once in the morning, once at night. He sat with her for an hour and then left. She ignored him, mostly, it was up to Mark and Mage to engage him in conversation for she said not a word.

It would be no different this time, she decided.

She reclined against the wall in a window seat, her knees drawn to her chest, a book propped on top. He sat in the window seat with her. Cilla, who could not stand to be in the same room with him, withdrew immediately. Which left Beth and Mage alone with Tavington.

Mage sat at her writing desk in the corner of the parlor under a sun drenched window, writing a letter to her mother.

When William entered, she nodded in greeting, then turned her back on the Officer, returning to her letter.

To her profound relief, Captain Bordon had not accompanied him. He had done so on several occasions and it caused Mage no end of turmoil. She had been attracted to the Captain from the first time she'd met him - at the Simms ball, it was. She had danced with him several times and to her dismay, she discovered she was very attracted to him.

She loved her husband dearly but her attraction to the dashing Captain with the broad shoulders left her breathless. He was so strong looking, she imagined he could lift her easily, push her against the wall and take her with one thrust -

_No! Stop it you foolish woman, you are married. You love your husband!_

Mage tried to force images of Bordon from her mind, focusing on the letter at hand.

These men were dangerous, anyway. _Deadly_ and dangerous.

Why, only the day before, Watson had bought word that Ethan Cooke had been hung! Mage knew from Mark that Cooke was the spy Tavington had used to deliver Beth's letter to Burwell.

He had been hung for treason! Tavington and Captain Bordon had watched the hanging, utterly impassive and uncaring!

Technically, the man _was_ guilty, a true rebel in every sense. He had been playing both sides off at the same time, but still!

The news had left the Putman's reeling but they made the decision not to tell Beth, she was distressed enough. Knowing someone else had been hung for the crime she herself was guilty of would be too much for the girl to bear.

::::

"Are you going to speak to me, today?" William murmured. He cast a quick look over his shoulder and saw Mage had her back to them, seemingly engrossed in her letter.

There was only silence from Beth.

"Come now, this is becoming ridiculous," William ground out. "Must you be so stubborn - this is my seventh visit for Christ's sake!"

"And that should mean what, exactly?" Her voice was cold, frosty. William almost wished she had not spoken, if she was to use _that_ tone with him.

"That I am trying to make amends, Beth," he said earnestly.

"You think visiting me a few times would make me fall at your feet?" She said contemptuously. She then feigned excitement, she pressed her hands to her chest and gushed, "Colonel Tavington has taken time from his busy day to visit with me - I should be ever so grateful! I must forgive you at once!"

Her false fervor dampened and she gave him a flat look.

"_Forgive_ me?" His voice rose. Another quick glance over his shoulder and he lowered his voice again. "Forgive me. I've done nothing -"

"You've done plenty."

"Those women -"

"Meant nothing, so you've said," she over rode him. "Would you accept that as an excuse, if you learned I had bedded three other men in the last week?"

"Certainly not!" Tavington sputtered. The very idea enraged him, but it was _different_. He was a man, she a young woman of virtue!

"Oh, but its just _bedding_, William!" She mocked him quietly with his own words. "Those _other_ men meant nothing."

He sighed heavily, this was getting him nowhere. He had lost count of the women he had courted, lost count of the amount he had angered. But every single one of them had cooled their tempers, within hours, if not by the end of the day - or the night. But Beth, it had been six days since the ball! Four since Sunday nights disaster.

The one woman who he wished to marry, out of all the women he had courted, and she would not _melt_!

The silence stretched between them. He was desperate to have her alone - perhaps if he was able to kiss her, to hold her, remind her how much she loved him... But he had not been able to get her alone since Sunday.

"Can we go for a walk?" He asked her quietly.

"No. Unless Cilla or one of my Aunts can accompany us?" She arched an eyebrow and he tightened his lips.

"I see. Your constant companionship is deliberate then."

"Of course. I'm surprised you have not realized before now."

"I suspected. So. You do not wish to be alone with me."

"No."

"Are you afraid of your feelings, Beth?" He taunted quietly, his irritation rising. "Afraid your anger will dissolve if I kiss you?"

"Yes." She said quite seriously. She held his gaze unblinking. "That is exactly what I fear. I do not trust myself with you."

Taken aback by her admission, Tavington leaned back and studied her anew. She stared right back but he finally began to see, to see _her_. Underneath her cool facade of indifference she was brittle, needful and wanting.

The Officer felt a thrill of hope. Encouraged by his discovery, he shuffled closer and took her hand.

"Darling," he whispered as he stroked her fingers with his. "Let me try. I promise I won't pull away again, I am yours."

"And I am yours. But you've hurt me too much," she choked on a sob and looked away. He could see the struggle within her, watched as she hardened her resolve and sought to steady her voice. "You've shown me the true you, and you are too dangerous by far. I meant what I said, we are finished." She pulled her hand from his grasp.

"You love me." He insisted.

"You know I do," she said tiredly.

"Then stop this _foolishness_!" He hissed quietly with frustration.

Another glance over his shoulder showed Mage still engrossed with her letter. He turned back to Beth only to see her face had closed to him again, her icy veneer back in place. Breathing heavily, his hand reached for hers again. He could have growled with irritation, it was never this difficult for him!

Understanding washed over him like a wave. He wanted to _marry_ this girl, not make her his mistress. His usual tactics, tricks and devices would not work, not now. He had shown jealousy, possessiveness, longing, adoration and still she doubted his feelings.

Because he had never told her he loved her. Not even once.

_I wish to marry her, not just bed her,_ he reminded himself.

"Beth," he squeezed her fingers gently, leaned in close so that she alone would hear his whisper.

"Darling, you must know how I feel about you." His fingers stroked her face with a light caress.

She stared at him, wide eyed and hoping but wary as well. It was not enough, he realised. He had to say the words. He leaned in closer now, his lips almost touching hers. When she drew away, he followed, their lips never more than an inch apart.

"Beth. My darling," he said earnestly, his eyes holding hers. "I _love_ you."

The change in her was dramatic.

She paused, an instant of astonishment and anguish by turns, then with a whimper Beth gripped his cravat and held tight as she gave him the deepest, most devastating kiss he had ever experienced in his thirty-two years. His arms were about her instantly, holding her close. Her fingers wound through his cravat, holding tight in case this was a trick and he pulled away from her as he had before. He tightened his hold on her, a silent assurance that he would not.

Her tongue sought entry and with very little prompting he parted his lips, allowing her to guide and dominate. It was exquisite, he was on fire - her tongue stroking his, her eyes squeezed shut while he watched her beautiful face. She rocked her head to the side and he followed her, rocked to the other side. Beth whimpered, quietly, barely discernible. He hoped Mage did not turn, did not see, did not interrupt this, the most overwhelming, fulfilling kiss of his life.

Beth stroked his face while they kissed, her fingertips mapped his brow, his cheek and jaw. He had to come up for air, he broke away and she followed with another whimper, her fingers clutching his cravat, pulling him back to her.

"I love you," he said it again before their lips connected again and she moaned low in her throat, pressed herself against him. His hands moving along her back pulling her tighter. Finally trusting it was not a trick, Beth released her tight hold on his cravat and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I love you," she keened into his mouth, "so much."

She sounded on the verge of tears, desperate and desolate.

He couldn't understand it, he was positively buoyant himself. Perhaps she needed more reassurance for she was quite correct, his conduct toward her had left a lot to be desired. And so he said it again, and again, a litany for her ears alone.

"I love you my darling, I love you," over and over against her lips with kisses between each declaration. She moaned and whimpered, became even more anguished, more desolate.

But it was good, so _very_ good. And as pleasure and warmth surged through him all he could do was hold her and kiss her and hope it was enough.

A commotion at the front door, Tavington barely registered it. Lost as he was to the joy of Beth's tongue flicking across his, her warm breath sighing in his mouth, her fingers still mapping his face as though she could soak in the memory of his features through their tips.

"Colonel Tavington!" Bordon's voice calling from the hall.

William and Beth froze. They drew away ever so slightly, their parted lips still almost touching, still linked by a thin line of moisture. Both breathing heavily, staring at each other, stunned back to reality. Bordon burst into the parlor and Beth dropped back against the wall away from William.

"Sir, there have been sightings of Marion and his rabble not half a mile from here. If we are quick, we might very well catch him -"

"Rouse the Dragoons -" Tavington snapped, lurching to his feet.

"Already done Sir, Wilkins and Simms are gathering them."

"Very good," William turned to stare down at Beth.

She gazed up at him, her eyes flicking over his face. He was conscious of Mage still sitting at her desk, facing them now, no longer writing her letter. Her eyes were on Bordon but still William was careful of his words.

"Miss Martin, I must away. I want to give you something - " He was reaching into his pocket, he pulled forth his gift, wrapped in a square of silk. "It is... precious to me. An heirloom if you will, and I wish you to have it -'

"I can't..." She shook her head, refused his gift.

"Beth," he leaned down to whisper. "I don't have time for this, I have to leave. Please, take it!"

Her fingers shook as she took the gift.

"There is something I wish to speak to you about..." a quick glance at Mage and he lowered his voice. He stared at Beth pointedly. "Something I need to _ask_ you, if you take my meaning. Tonight or tomorrow perhaps."

Beth gasped and swallowed - clearly, she understood.

"Very well." She said weakly.

He stared down into her haunted, anguished eyes and felt a lurch - a twist in his stomach. There was no more time to reassure her, no time! He would propose marriage to her, but not now, in front of her Aunt and Bordon and not with his time constraint.

Ignoring Mage, he leaned down and kissed Beth's hand, taking the opportunity to whisper his love for her one last time, and then he was gone. He ran from the house with Bordon at his side, mounted his horse and was away to chase after Marion the Fox.

::::::::

The Dragoons assembled in record time and raced for Charles Town following the lead Bordon had been given. Sure enough, they discovered Marion's camp, though the thunder of their approach had alerted the Fox and he had gathered his men.

They had no time to flee, however and Tavington screamed "CHARGE", and the Dragoons thundered into the rebels very midst. The skirmish was short and nasty and at the end, five rebels lay dead.

Marion the Fox, however, had managed to slip away.

The Green Dragoons chased the Swamp Fox through the many hunting trails, hot on the militias heels. Marion refused to turn and face Tavington, as he was outnumbered by two to one. And so he led Tavington a merry chase until well after sunset.

By the time they returned to Charles Town, the hour was late. While the rest of his men sought baths and beds, William - as the Commander of the unit - had to make his report to Clinton. With that done, he galloped to Beth's Uncle's manor, only to find the house darkened - not a single light that would indicate anyone was awake.

With a string of curses he rode slowly back to the Tisdale's. It was mostly dark there too, a few candles lit to light his way through the manor. It was close to ten o'clock, he realised. No wonder the Putman's and Beth were all in bed.

After a quick bath, William roused the cook and headed to the dining hall to await dinner. He planned to eat his fill and then retire for the evening.

It would not be right, carousing at the tavern - or even having Linda come to him - not when he planned to propose to Beth the very next day. He was not so lost to propriety as that!

As he awaited dinner, he remembered the skirmish with the Fox.

No Dragoons had been harmed, and though he was frustrated that the Fox had escaped him, Tavington was well pleased with the way his new recruits had handled themselves in this, their first skirmish. Arthur Simms had met his expectations, as did Colin Ferguson and the Middleton twins.

Whatever Marion was there for was still a mystery but the Green Dragoons had given chase, pushing Marion further and further from Charles Town. He doubted the Fox would be back any time soon.

::::::

When he was half way through his plate of food, Bordon joined him with a plate of his own.

"Anything to report?" William asked, knowing that Bordon had just come from speaking with the sentries watching Beth at the Putman residence.

"The guards say nothing has changed," Bordon said between bites of casserole. It had been hours since his last meal and he was starving. "Miss Martin has still not left the house."

"A puzzle, that. She is a sociable creature and has many friends. It's strange that she would seclude herself so,"

"She is not secluded, she has many visitors. Miss Tisdale mostly, but Miss Middleton and Miss Wilkins have visited," Bordon hesitated, knowing of Tavington's jealousy. "And Private Watson. He visits daily."

Tavington tightened his lips. "I should speak to Captain Turner, his men have entirely too much time on their hands."

Bordon chuckled. "Indeed."

"I'm going to propose to her tomorrow morning," Tavington confided. Richard sat back startled as William continued. "I would have tonight, but when I went to see her the house was dark and quiet."

"I thought you said she hasn't spoken to you all week?"

"She hasn't, but it changed this morning."

"Well, well!" Richard arched an eyebrow, he smiled and said tauntingly, "do you think she'll accept you?"

Tavington gave the other man a flat look. "She'll accept me." He rolled his eyes.

"William..." Bordon ventured cautiously. "What if she did betray you?"

"Until I have proof, there is nothing I can do. I will secure her for now, I would be mad not to, with her wealth. And if she did pass warning to Burwell, I will deal with it then."

His face darkened, his tone was cold, implacable.

"Very well," Bordon let the matter drop. "A toast!" He raised his glass. "To Colonel William Tavington, finally tying the knot. The bloody old fool."

"Can't be a bachelor forever," William drank deeply of his whiskey. "The Tavington name must be continued, I need an heir."

:::::

Beth remained seated in the window seat, utterly dazed, for a long while after Tavington left her. She could still feel the searing warmth of his kiss. She touched her fingertips to her lips and smiled, excitement almost overwhelming her.

_He loves me, he is going to propose!_

She knew it, what else could he wish to ask her? What other question could he have for her? He had looked at her so pointedly, as though trying to imprint his thoughts in her mind. Yes, he was going to propose. Dear Lord!

Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she almost swooned.

Nevertheless, eventually, excitement gave way to confusion, to uncertainty. She loved him, _so much_, but if he ever learned of her betrayal...

Besides which, her family would never accept him. Her father would never consent. If she married William, she would lose her family forever. She would be forced to choose between them. Her father, Susan, Margaret, her brothers, even Cilla. Cilla would never speak to her again, Beth suspected!

Gabriel might face Tavington, her husband, on the field of battle. One might kill the other.

And then there was Harry... She was already engaged even if the banns had not been announced.

Swallowing hard against her tears, Beth rose and stumbled to her Aunt. She dropped down in the spare chair placed alongside the desk. The two women faced each other.

"Marion has been sighted and the Dragoons might catch him." Beth said, not quite ready to speak of what was really bothering her.

"No, Beth. Marion is too wily - they do not call him 'The Fox' for nothing," Mage tilted her head to regard her niece. "One last kiss before you leave him?"

"You saw?" Beth gasped. "You did not interrupt us!"

"No, with you leaving tomorrow, I understood your need."

Beth - devastated, anguished, confused and very much in love, burst in to tears and dropped to her knees, burying her head in Mage's lap. She cried convulsively, shuddering as her sobs took hold of her.

"Oh, dear heart," Mage murmured. Her hands moved over Beth's hair as the girl cried, her entire body wracked with tears. "Oh, darling. You are doing the right thing! You must leave, and if there was ever a man in the Colonies to make you forget Tavington, it's Burwell. Oh, you poor dear sweet thing."

Mage sniffled back her own tears as she watched Beth in the depths of despair, crying her heartache. Charlotte, who would be spending the night with them to she and Beth could be away early in the morning, came in and quietly sat down in the chair Beth had vacated. She watched as Mage comforted their niece.

Mage whispered - she did not know what, reassurances, words of love, anything she could think of as she stroked Beth's hair.

Eventually, the girl's sobs began to subside. She sat back on her heels and hung her head, tears dripping onto her clasped hands. Mage passed her a handkerchief.

"He said he loves me," she said, her voice desolate. "That he has something to ask me. He means to propose to me, I know it in my heart."

The older women shared a stricken glance over Beth's bowed head.

A few nights ago, Trellim had told Mark of a conversation he had over heard between Tavington and Bordon, in the Square while they waited to capture Colonel Burwell.

The two women had convinced Mark not inform Beth of the conversation, for it would only break her heart. It served no purpose, they told Mark. Beth was leaving, she would marry Burwell, there was no point in repeating a conversation they knew would only hurt her. She had been through enough, they had told him.

Now, however, both Aunt's wondered at the wisdom of withholding the information, both wondered if they would need to tell Beth after all.

"Perhaps," Charlotte said slowly.

"You know you can't marry him," Mage added gently. "You do know that, don't you?"

"Why?" Beth glanced back and forth between them. "I love him, so much." Her eyes narrowed with irritation and her tone took on a defensive edge. Challenging. Stubborn. "_Why_ can't I marry him?"

"Beth..." Charlotte seemed at a loss, at first.

"Dear heart, after everything he has done? The wager? Three mistresses, and an engagement already settled?" She bristled, her tone becoming heated. "And if those aren't reasons enough, he tried to _use_ you! And what if he discovers your betrayal, after you are married? He already has the authority to punish you, but if he was your _husband_..." She shuddered at the thought. Women were completely beholden to their husbands, the promise to 'obey' when they married was not an empty vow. "It would not go well for you, I assure you."

"Beth," Mage added her piece, both women trying to make her see reason in the hope they would not have to reveal Trellim's heartbreaking discovery, which would only serve to crush her. "Your father would disown you. He would never forgive you, you might never see him or your family again. Besides, you have accepted Burwell. You can't break your engagement."

"I know, I know!" Beth sighed. "Papa would be furious, and I am loathe to give up my family. But how can I go to Harry like this?" She asked the two older, wiser women. "It isn't right. I am in love with another man, my fiancé's enemy. It isn't right, I can not marry Burwell."

Mage and Charlotte shared another look over Beth's head, this one of panic. Charlotte stepped in cleanly.

"Dear heart," she said gently. "Listen to me now. I will tell you a tale, one I believe is important for you to hear."

And Charlotte confided in Beth as she had never done before. Mage had not heard the tale either, but Charlotte trusted her sister in law.

"I was in love, you see. With an older man. He was, however, in love with another woman and therefore blinded to me. John Selton, the man I would one day marry, began to court me. I was in anguish, for my father wished me to marry John - he was a good match for me. A wealthy landholder, and a business associate. Time went on and the man I loved married the woman he was courting. He was lost to me, and I thought my life would end. His wife and I, we were close and I loved her dearly. I did not begrudge her happiness, but for myself - I was in the depths of despair. John was a good man. A short time after marrying him, I realised I was in love with him. My love for the other man never left me, it burns brightly even now. But, now you see, it is possible to love two men at once. I loved John well and..." Charlotte choked slightly. "And will miss him keenly until the end of my days."

"And the other?" Mage asked carefully, Charlotte could tell from the other woman's expression that she suspected.

"He is widowed." Charlotte said pointedly.

"Then that means there is a chance for you!" Beth, youthful and exuberant, forgot her despair for the moment, caught up in Charlotte's tale.

"Perhaps, dear heart. There are complications, but... The purpose of this tale, darling one, was to show you that you can love two men at once. I believe that you are very much in love with Burwell, also."

Beth was stunned, she stared at her Aunt, who was still speaking.

"Would you have sent him warning, fretted over the threat to him, _agreed to marry him_, agreed to run away from Charles Town, if you did not?"

"I..." Still stunned... "I care for him, I do..."

"It's called _love_, Beth."

"But it feels so _different_..." Beth wailed.

"They are very different men," Mage said wisely. "You can never love two people the same way."

"Beth," Charlotte leaned in close. "Your love for Tavington is all consuming at the moment, it is blinding you to all else. But do not call off your engagement to Burwell, you will be doing yourself a disservice."

"But Harry... I don't want to lie to him -"

"You need only tell him what you wish to tell him," Mage said firmly._ For we surely won't._

"Indeed," Charlotte agreed. "I never told John, and I loved him quite well. Mage and I will keep your confidence."

Mage nodded agreement. "What did he give you? I am aching with curiosity."

"As am I," Charlotte murmured. She had seen the square of silk in Beth's hand and wondered if it was a gift from Tavington.

Beth unwrapped the silk, revealing the gift within. All three women gasped to see a large ruby, set in the centre of intricately worked gold. A circle of smaller rubies surrounded the larger one, and at the top was a loop to thread a gold chain through. A large tear drop pearl dangled from the bottom of the pendant. The entire piece was big enough to fit in the palm of Beth's hand.

"My God," she murmured. "I've never seen anything like it - its... Beautiful. Lord.."

Beth was entranced, the entire piece was mesmerizing. She imagined wearing it on a long chain, it would nestle between her breasts, she would wear the dress Tavington had given her and they would attend a ball, everyone would stare at the large pendant and comment...

"Very pretty," Cilla said, Beth had not heard her come into the room.

"Pretty?" Beth scoffed. "Cilla are you blind? Its exquisite!"

"Yes, I suppose it is," she squatted on her heels beside her kneeling cousin. Beth gripped the pendant tight, held it to her heart, her eyes closed, her face quickly becoming pained and anguished.

"I can't keep it," she finally said in a quiet voice.

Her Aunt's gazes became less intent, less guarded. Beth was a clever girl - usually, and was doing far better than most girls her age who found themselves hopelessly in love.

"No, dear heart, you really can't," Charlotte said gently.

"But..." Beth was becoming desperate, and Charlotte sighed, sensing her niece would allow herself to be seduced by Tavington all over again, if she did not intercede soon. "He said he loves me, do you think he meant it?"

The look of hope in Beth's eyes...

Charlotte held Mage's gaze. Her sister in law finally nodded - the time had come. Though she was loathe to do it, she now had no choice.

"Beth, I need to tell you something."

Beth gazed warily at Charlotte, sending by the other woman's tone that she was not going to enjoy hearing what Charlotte had to tell her.

"It happened on Sunday night. Trellim was positioned close to Tavington and Bordon while they waited in the bushes for Burwell to arrive," her voice was gentle. She hesitated for a moment, then hardened her resolve. "He was close enough to have overheard the two Officers discussing you."

"Me?" Beth asked in a tremulous voice.

"Yes, you. Dear heart, Trellim heard Tavington speak of his intentions toward you. From what he was saying, he had intended on making you his mistress. But -" She closed her eyes, it pained her to continue.

"Tell me," Beth whispered.

"I'm so sorry to tell you this Beth," Charlotte said earnestly. "But Trellim said that Tavington confided to Bordon that he would marry you. Bordon protested, reminding Tavington that his own fiancé was waiting for him back in England with her twenty thousand pounds," Charlotte sighed, it was difficult to continue. "I'm sorry, dear heart - this is the most difficult part. Tavington replied that you have thirty-three thousand pounds and that as soon as he learned of it, he decided he would not be taking you as a mistress, but as a wife."

Beth's heart twisted, she gasped and tears sprang to her eyes.

The women fell silent, all three gazed at Beth with sympathy, waiting for her to gather herself.

"The night of the ball..." She finally whispered, her eyes wide and staring. "We met with Clinton and the Simms - it was then that they told me they wished for me to consider Arthur for marriage. We discussed my inheritance and dowry - which Clinton said he would provide, for he had appointed himself my Guardian."

All delivered in a flat, dead voice. "I remember telling William afterwards that I would not be able to trust any marriage proposal, that all suitors would only be after my wealth. I had known since I learned of the wager that he had no intention of marrying me. I guess he changed his mind... When _he_ learned of my wealth..."

The women were quiet, allowing Beth to draw to her own conclusion.

"But... We marry for wealth, all the time," Beth said desperately. "Suitable matches are made, you said so yourself, Aunt Charlotte! Grandpapa wanted you to marry Uncle John for he was a landowner - and you would have had a considerable dowry. Unions are made based on what each person brings to the marriage!"

"Indeed," Mage answered for Charlotte, "Your Uncle and I will not allow Cilla to marry unless her courtier has land or can prove some other form of wealth. Which brings me to the next thing Trellim told me. It seems that Tavington's father squandered the families wealth before he died, leaving them almost destitute. It was all his mother could do to find eight hundred pounds to pay for Tavington's commission into the army. He needs a wealthy bride to help his family out of dire straights."

Beth knew some of this already but to hear it pointed out so bluntly...

"He has no wealth of his own - no land, nothing," Charlotte said softly. "Beth, he is a fortune hunter."

"But... It doesn't mean he doesn't love me," Beth said desperately. "I have enough wealth for us both! With careful investment -"

"He squandered his five thousand in one year," Mage said firmly. "What makes you think he won't spend through yours? In five, or perhaps seven years, you'd be destitute!"

"And I have something to add," Cilla said quietly and the women turned to her. Beth's eyes pleaded with Cilla, begged her not to make this worse. "I'm sorry, Beth - I didn't want to tell you but I have to, especially if you are going to use his love for you as an argument to give up Burwell and your family!"

Beth steeled herself for what she sensed would be the final blow.

"Mary took me aside yesterday, she wanted to tell you but," Cilla softened her tone. "Neither of us wanted to hurt you..."

"Tell me," Beth said quietly.

"He has had another woman in his bed these last three nights, she has been sleeping in his chamber at the Tisdale's. Mary saw her for the first time on Monday morning but she has only managed to discover the woman's first name. Linda."

Despair washed over her and Beth hung her head, defeated. Utterly defeated.

"I understand what I must do now," she said quietly, finally accepting the truth. She would not care that her wealth far exceeded his, if he loved her! But he was still bedding Linda, even now! She placed the pendant on the corner of Mage's writing desk. She pulled her hand away slowly and began to rise, then walked unsteadily toward the door. Her face was bloodless when she turned back to the others. "Aunt Charlotte, what time did Captain Trellim say we can leave tomorrow?"

"First thing after breakfast, nine o'clock - no later."

"Very well. I am awfully tired," Beth could barely manage the words through the stupor that came over her. "I think I will go and lie down now. I don't believe I will want dinner."

"I will send Mila up with a tray, just in case," Mage said. Beth nodded and walked away.

"Are we just going to sit here?" Tears shone in Cilla's eyes, blurring the blue, making them appear grey. "Are we just going to leave her alone with her heartache?"

"If she wished to be with us, she would have stayed," Mage said gently.

Cilla shook her head, her tears falling, strode from the room and climbed the stairs. Deciding the other women were right, she resolved to leave Beth alone with her grief.

However, as she passed by Beth's bedroom, she could hear sobs, terrible, horrible, ripping sobs and Cilla gasped. Her resolve crumbled to dust and she burst into the room, slammed the door behind her and jumped on the bed. She pulled Beth into her arms and the cousins clutched each other and cried until there were no tears left.

::::

"Why did he give me the gift, Cilla?" Her voice was small, a hurt little girl, clearly confused.

"Because if you marry him, everything you own becomes his. And if you refused him, he knows you would not keep such a heirloom, you are too honorable for that," Cilla's voice was gentle and soft.

"He said he loves me..."

"I know, dear heart. But it can never be."

"No, it can't," Beth agreed, and her weeping began anew.

:::::

The house was quiet, Cilla had long since left, Mila had bought Beth a tray of food and taken it away a short time later, untouched.

Beth sat at her small writing desk, quill in hand, poised over the parchment. The pendant Tavington had given her glinted in the candlelight. Finally finding the words, she began to write her farewell letter to Tavington.

She wrote a second letter, one to Arthur Simms. This one would have to be kept secret even from her own family - she would need to devise a way to have it delivered. Perhaps she would go for a walk early in the morning and find a slave child in need of coin. The idea came to her from the man - the slave - who had delivered Burwell's message in the park.

Signing Arthur's letter with '~Anon~", she sealed it and placed it on her desk. She did not even want Arthur to know who the letter came from. It was best if no one knew - but Beth had decided days ago that she could not leave Charles Town without warning the Simms, not after everything that had happened. Even if Burwell would not harm any hostages taken from the family - Beth thought of the terror they would feel. Civilians were no way of winning back or freeing military hostages.

As she laid down, the thought occurred to her that now she had betrayed both Tavington _and_ Burwell.


	27. Chapter 27 - Departing Charles Town

**Chapter 27 - Departing Charles Town**

Beth was quiet, listless, swaying with the movement of the carriage. The gentle rocking was surprisingly soothing. the other women were speaking quietly but Beth paid them only half a mind.

"It will take the whole day, won't it?" Mila heaved a great sigh. Beth was not the only one leaving behind a lover.

"Lord, we have only just left the yard, Mila!" Charlotte laughed. "Yes, it will take the whole day. Beth, I have decided we will go straight to Fresh Water, rather than to my plantation first as I had originally planned. I think it would be for the best to just get you home, no delays."

"As you wish, Aunt," Beth replied in a leaden, disinterested tone.

Charlotte and her maid, Polly, exchanged glances and by unspoken agreement, the two entered into a cheery conversation in the hope of drawing Beth out of her melancholia.

"I admit I look forward to being home again," Polly said as she pulled her knitting out. "I don't mind Charles Town but my sister is close to giving birth and I would like to be there. My first nephew, or niece."

"It is very exciting," Charlotte replied. Polly's sister worked in Charlotte's employ on her plantation, and resided at Drakespar permanently. "A baby jacket?"

"Yes," she smiled and showed her Mistress, who made much over Polly's talent.

Mila, sitting beside Beth, sighed again. "I'll be glad to be at Fresh Water. I hate leaving Zeke, but there can be no future for us... I'm not sorry to leave Charles Town behind."

Beth nodded her silent understanding, her gaze still fixed beyond the window.

It had been a while since Mila had seen her mother, Abigale. As nursemaid to the Martin children, Abigale always accompanied the Martin family when they made the trip to Town, but the last visit was months ago now. Mother and daughter had quarreled over Mila's growing affection for one of Mark Putman's slaves, Zeke.

"I thought you liked it here in Charles Town, Mila?"

"Not truly, Mrs. Selton."

"Mila had a rude awakening, four years ago - she discovered she was an African," Polly - also an African, teased quietly.

"I always knew that! Its just that, at Fresh Water, we aren't treated any different. But here! Lord... I am a free woman, maid to a Lady," a quick glance at Beth, whose eyes were dull and unseeing. "But I might as well be a slave, for all the difference it makes to the good people of Charles Town. It frightens me here too, Zeke told me things of his previous life, his owner before Mr, Putman. I had no idea slaves were treated so horribly."

"Fresh Water and the Martin family have kept you sheltered from it, Mila," Polly said. "Slaves are indeed treated poorly, and freedmen not much better."

"So I found out... I'll miss Zeke but it will be nice to be home where I don't have to mind so many airs and graces, where no one expects me to hide my offensive self from their view." Her tone was most decisive.

"Yessem," Polly agreed. "It's not my favourite place either, I prefer Drakespar, myself. Though Fresh Water will do me just fine."

"Yes... But Zeke..." Mila shook herself. "No, there is no future in it. Even if Mr. Putman gave permission to Zeke to marry, he would still be a slave and I would end up being a slave also."

"I did not realise you two were romantically involved, Mila." Charlotte said.

"Hmm..." Mila sighed. "I like him well enough, he is strong, handsome, kind... Ma approved of him but she warned me to seek my husband amongst the freedmen."

"When I marry Harry, you will still be my maid. I can buy Zeke and free him," Beth said earnestly, taking Mila's hand.

"Would you really?" Mila said, suddenly excited. Beth certainly had the wealth to purchase salves, though the young woman never would, her father had bought her up believing all men should be free. It was against Beth's morals to purchase slaves. But if she bought Zeke with the intention of freeing him, that would be entirely different.

"I will speak to Uncle Mark about it. I'm sure he will let Zeke go and then the two of you could build a life together."

"I could never repay you, Beth," Mila warned. "Not in a hundred years."

Beth waved the comment away. "What price on friendship?" She asked quietly, again gazing out the window.

"So, you will still go with Beth, and be her maid?" Charlotte asked, relieving the silence that followed.

"Of course, Mrs. Selton. I am looking forward to that - Burwell does not live in Charles Town, thank goodness - wait, where does he live? Where is his plantation?"

"Raleigh, in North Carolina. It is not under British occupation as yet, you will not have to deal with any Redcoats for a while."

"Or ever again, if Harry has his way," Beth said quietly.

"Quite," Charlotte agreed.

"You will be a maid to a proper Gentlelady, Mila. Are you sure you will be able to handle it?"

"Polly! Of course I will. I was taught by the best, after all." Mila smiled sweetly.

Polly scoffed, she had been the one to train the young girl, after all.

The carriage turned out of Tradd Street and ambled slowly by the Assembly Hall. Beth gasped as she caught sight of Tavington through the curtains, standing on the steps in front of the hall, talking with James Wilkins. Her eyes where drawn to the Officer, She sighed as she watched him. But then Tavington turned to watch the carriage pass, and Beth recoiled from the window. She could see still see him, if she peeped around opening.

She drank in the sight of him, tried to fix him in her memory, every detail. He was so handsome it took her breath away. He cut such a fine figure in his uniform. His Redcoat fit his athletic build snugly and those black buckskin breeches... His cravat, which she had gripped so tightly in case he would try another nasty trick and pull away from her again. His dark hair tied back in its queue, his helmet tucked under his arm and his black gloves covered his hands.

He was smiling at something Wilkins was saying and Beth's heart pounded. With misery and love, heartache and betrayal, anguish - she was feeling so many things, it was hard to pinpoint any one emotion.

Grief, first and foremost. A heavy weight on her chest.

Her dowry and her inheritance. The pendant, to draw her in and all the while he was still bedding Linda. She had left a note for him, written in the small hours of the night, and she had placed the pendant in an envelope to be handed back to Tavington.

_I loved him so much_. Her final thought before the carriage passed and Tavington was lost from view.

She dropped back against the seat. "I cried so much last night, I didn't think I had any tears left," she said quietly as she dabbed her eyes with a hanky.

"There will be tears, dear heart - and a lot of them, over the next few weeks. But you must not give in to the despair," Charlotte gripped Beth's hand.

"Too true," Mila added. "Besides, there is a better man awaiting you, Beth."

"That there is," Beth said with a sigh. "Still, how stupid was I? I believed him, when he said he loved me. I wanted to climb into his lap, hold him tight and never let go. I was ready to throw it all away and marry him, even if it meant Papa did not let me see the family again... And he was still bedding that woman, was only after my dowry and inheritance... So stupid."

"You are not stupid Beth," Charlotte said firmly.

Beth, however, withdrew in her herself again, and this time she did not join in the conversation no matter how the other women tried.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tavington trotted up the stone steps, meeting James at the front of the Assembly Hall.

"Ah, already here, good," the Colonel was always on time, without fail, and he did not tolerate tardiness from his men. "Where is Arthur?

"Inside. Captain Bordon had use of him."

"Very well. Did you speak to Mr. Simms about the departure from Charles Town?"

"Yes, Sir. I explained that we would need to travel quickly and could not be weighed down with all their worldly possessions. Ridiculous to think they wished to pack up and bring the entire manor."

"Folly indeed. If he thinks he will use my Dragoons to box up their fine China and silverware, he can think again."

"Just so. It was his wife, I'm afraid. The women of the Simms family have never been particularly intelligent."

Tavington barked a laugh. "And you married one of them?"

"Her wealth, Sir," James explained. "Mrs. Wilkins came with quite a nice dowry, though I sometimes wonder if she was worth it. Perhaps I should have waited for one of her sisters - Therese has a nice dowry also and is proving to be far prettier."

The Colonel laughed again. "Wealth in a wife, beauty in a mistress. It is what most men strive for."

James arched an eyebrow but held his silence. The truth was, he was itching to ask Tavington if he had bedded little Miss Beth Martin. He certainly spent an inordinate amount of his time in the girls company! Something that James' mother in law was none to pleased about. She was driving the entire family crazy with her complaints about Tavington and Beth. Threatening to cut poor Arthur off without a cent if he didn't get in there and court the girl! Wilkins scoffed to himself - Arthur didn't have a chance in Hell of stealing Beth from Tavington's grasp.

Nevertheless, it was hardly an appropriate question to ask his new superior, no matter how curious he was!

Speak of the Devil, Wilkins thought as Mrs. Charlotte Selton's carriage ambled by the Assembly Hall. He was startled to see Beth's Aunt, hot on the the heels of thinking of her niece.

"I wonder where Mrs. Selton is off to on this fine morning," he blurted.

"Mrs. Selton?" Tavington turned to look. "That is Beth's Aunt's carriage?"

"Yes, Sir. I'd recognise it anywhere. She is not known to be such an early riser."

"Perhaps she has business out of town," Tavington mused.

"Perhaps..." He had an opening to ask about Beth, but he hesitated. Tavington was a closed sort of person and one never knew what might provoke his notorious temper. Still, the Colonel seemed in rather high spirits...

"You and Miss Martin seem quite close, Sir," Wilkins ventured.

"You could say that," William replied. A very nonchalant answer if ever there was one.

Wilkins' interest and curiosity were piked even further. There was a 'look' in Tavington's eye and James began to seriously wonder if he _had_ deflowered the girl already.

_That would be one way to get Caroline off Arthur's back. If she knew Miss Martin had opened her legs for Tavington, she wouldn't care how much the girl was worth! Though thirty-three thousand is a large sum..._

"She is friends with my sister, you may be aware?" James prompted, then lied outright, "my wife Emily and Beth are very close, also."

Tavington raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? I hadn't heard. Well, you will know soon enough, I dare say. I plan on proposing to Miss Martin this morning, as soon as this business with Lord Rawdon is done."

"Christ, really!" Wilkins burst out, utterly shocked. "Christ. I thought you were just trying to -" he cut short, and cursed his tongue for running away. Obviously Tavington was not merely trying to roger Beth, if he planned to propose.

William wore a hint of a smile, mildly amused. "You thought I only wished to deflower her, claim her virtue?" He drawled coolly. "Well, you would have been quite right a few days ago, but not now. I will marry the girl."

"Well, congratulations Sir," Wilkins said, hoping like hell he had not offended the Commander.

Tavington seemed content enough, nodding graciously and still sporting that small smile. Wilkins sighed with relief, this man held his career in his hands, after all. Come to think of it, he decided, he must have his Emily begin to try and strengthen her association with Beth. James' wife, companion of Lieutenant Colonel Tavington's wife... An Officer of the Green Dragoons could rise high indeed with such a connection. Especially with his sister Sarah being such a good friend of Beth's as well. "You're a lucky man."

"Thank you, Wilkins. I will be a lucky and rare man indeed, to have both beauty and wealth in a wife. Though she has not said yes yet," his smile widened.

"Obviously you do not believe she will refuse you," James bantered.

"No, she will not refuse me," Tavington scoffed. "The girl is in love with me. I would have proposed yesterday, if not for the fruitless chase after Marion."

"Hmm, in love with you, is she? Mrs. Simms will not be happy about that."

"I dare say, considering she wants Beth's wealth for her son," Tavington shrugged. "Beth has done what she can to assist Arthur, so he will not be disinherited. But she will be marrying me, not him."

"So I gather now," James murmured. He hoped he was present when Caroline discovered this piece of news! Her tantrum was sure to be spectacular. "You know, I'm really rather surprised and impressed. You have managed to seduce Miss Martin away from her Patriotic beliefs. I never would have imagined her married to a British Officer."

"You under estimate my charms," Tavington laughed.

_Laughed!_ Wilkins had not thought the man capable of such.

"Perhaps I merely _over_ estimated her allegiance," Wilkins quipped. "If she could be swayed by you so easily."

Tavington laughed again, not offended in the least.

"It surprises me that you have received her families blessing for marriage," James continued in a more serious tone. "With her entire family so heavily Patriotic."

"Her _entire_ family?" Tavington frowned. "Her father certainly, though it matters not. But you cannot mean her Uncle, however. I've dined with the Putman's on several occasions since I began courting Beth and Mr. Putman has always spoken well of the Crown and of Loyalty."

"Loyalty?" Wilkins asked incredulously. "No, sir, Loyal he is not. He was an Assemblyman much like myself but he aways took a Patriotic stance."

Tavington tensed, his good mood fleeing from him.

"Really. Mr. Putman is a Patriot, hmm?" Tavington continued in a very cool tone. "Why would he lead me to believe he was a Loyalist?"

"I'm not certain, Sir," Wilkins frowned. "I must admit I'm beginning to feel uneasy. If I had known Putman was trying to pass himself as Loyal I would have told you the truth of it sooner."

"Hmm. Tell me what you know of him now, would you?" Tavington said. "This is concerning to say the least. Was he hiding his allegiance merely to protect himself or to conceal some deeper involvement with the Patriotic cause?"

"Well, now that you mention it," Wilkins frowned. "He was heavily involved with Burwell, with all of the Continental Officers. Putman has ties to Francis Marion, for that matter."

"You don't say," Tavington breathed, suddenly alert. "Some deeper involvement then, I'd say."

"I am not a suspicious man by nature," James replied. "But I could well believe that of Putman."

"A spy then?" William said bluntly.

"Perhaps. At the very least he may know the reason behind Francis Marion's close proximity to Charles Town."

"He needs to be questioned," William announced. "And I believe it would be prudent to have Beth removed from his home. Clinton said Mrs. Simms would allow her to reside with them."

"Yes she will. Sir, if Putman managed to keep his allegiance from you," James ventured reluctantly, "then perhaps you do not know about Miss Martin's brother?"

"Tell me," Tavington leaned forward intently, his pale gaze cold and piercing.

"Corporal Gabriel Martin Sir. He is a Continental Soldier under Burwell's direct command."

Tavington recoiled and grunted as though Wilkins had punched him in the stomach. He gathered himself quickly, drew up to full height. Wilkins towered over the Colonel, but right now, he felt much the shorter. Tavington's rage lent him height.

"That was something she managed to keep very quiet," Tavington said finally in a deadly whisper. "Very quiet indeed. I think I will need to speak to my bride sooner rather than later. Gather the Dragoons, Captain, as many as can be. We ride for the Putman's."

::::::::::::::::::::

_New York:_

Colonel Banastre Tarleton lay on his back drifting in and out of a doze on the large bed, the late afternoon sun shining through the window felt warm his body. He was well pleased with his latest residence. He was in the home of the widow Howell, an older woman by some ten years or so, but still quite beautiful despite her fading youth.

Banastre had been quite amused to find himself on the receiving end of a seduction. The last time a woman had seduced him was some ten years earlier, when he was an innocent eighteen year old. He had fallen in love with the older woman, Miss Catharine Ingles. She was a Gentlewoman of the aristocracy however and Tarleton's family were in trade.

Wealthy, but still in trade and Banastre himself was not first born, therefore, he was not the heir to his families fortune. As such, Miss Ingles father had decided not to allow Banastre to court his beautiful daughter and so his heart had been broken for the first time.

While he was still nursing his broken heart, he had been introduced to a slightly older youth, a young man named William Tavington. They met at a gaming house - the Coco Tree. The two youths quickly found they had much in common, and even though they were very different men, in many ways they were as brothers. They had embarked on a quest, to bed as many women as they possibly could, both of low birth and better yet, of high.

Joining the war some five years later had not interrupted their pursuit even slightly. Colonial women were as accommodating as London's ladies, and the two Cornet's, as they were four years previously, had enjoyed the bounty the women offered.

It had amused Banastre to allow the widow Howell to chase him, and he waited two whole nights before he let her 'conquer' him. As lovely as she was, however, his thoughts where never far from Beth. A week and a half he had been in New York and he was hoping he would be recalled soon now that he had dealt with the rebel threat. He had sent her a letter recently, a flourishing letter expounding the love he still felt for her. He hoped he would receive an answer from her soon.

The widow Howell had slipped into his room a short time ago, soon after Tarleton had returned from his scouting. He was bone tired, however, and could not seem to wake up properly to give her the attention she deserved. On some level, he was aware of her presence, he would take her after a short rest, but for now he was content to lay still... drift... dream...

While he slept he dreamed of Beth, the feel of her lips pressed to his as he kissed her gently for the first and only time, a bitter sweet farewell kiss. He was still surprised at the strength of his feeling for the girl, he had been in love with her before he had ever been introduced, he was certain of it. He had not felt this way about a woman since Miss Ingles, and his feelings for the Gentlewoman paled to insignificance when compared to what he felt for Beth. He found he missed her intensely, his thoughts where either on the war and his duties, and on Miss Beth Martin.

In his dream they were still kissing farewell in her Uncle's parlor, but Beth decided a more thorough farewell was called for. She had forgiven him for the wager and he was lifting her skirts, lifting her and wrapping her legs about his body. He slipped inside her with ease and she moved against him, sighing and whimpering deliciously. His pleasure from the dream was heightened by Mrs. Howell's expert technique on his member, her hand moving over his bulge, moulding and kneading him through his breeches.

As he grew harder, he was faintly aware of Mrs Howell unbuttoning said breeches and pulling forth his hard member. He could feel her tongue on him, and it pulled him out of his dream of Beth, pulled him out of his sleep altogether. He did not mind though, the widow Howell was an expert with her tongue. He wrapped his fingers through her hair gently and kept his eyes closed, imagining it was his Beth bent over him giving him such pleasure. It did not take long before he was thrusting up, his grip tightened in the woman's hair, and he grunted as he shoved himself back and forth in her mouth. He held her head in place as his seed pulsed up his length.

He smiled down at her when she looked up at him and said, "Good afternoon sleepy head."

"Not such a sleepy head, I think - thanks to you." He replied lewdly. "Well, come along then, your turn."

"Hmm, I knew I had made the right choice when I choose you, even though Major Hanger is far more handsome."

Banastre scowled as he lifted her many skirts. She lay back on the bed and sighed as he settled between her legs and began to tease her with this tongue and fingers.

"I'm not sure I heard you correctly, my darling. Which of us is the more handsome?" he asked, as he circled her hard little quim, hidden within her folds, with his fingers.

"Oh Lord, you are, Banastre... Oh, so much more handsome!"

"Hmm, that is what I thought you said," Banastre smiled.

"Colonel! Oh that is wonderful!" Mrs. Howell moaned, and Tarleton set to work. He enjoyed the way she tasted, but as always his thoughts were on his Beth. He wondered if she would taste as lovely and sweet, if she would writhe and moan under his tongue the way Mrs. Howell was now. Before long the widow was gripping Tarleton's hair, much the same way he had gripped hers, and no less gentle as her climax surged through her. She lay breathing heavily as he moved over to cover her body with his.

"Already? Lord, Banastre, you have an insatiable appetite!"

"Yes, I do, it has landed me in trouble far to often of late, however," he said as he nudged at her entrance, his hardness slipped in to fill her easily.

"You will have to tell me how..." Mrs. Howell gasped. "Later."

Tarleton chuckled and began thrusting into her quickly but deeply, and the widow met his thrusts and gripped his bottom, pushing him to ever greater efforts, moaning and thrashing beneath him until they both climaxed and collapsed on the bed, spent and exhausted.

They both slipped into sleep again, their bodies warmed by the sun still shining through the window.

Tarleton was not sure how much time had passed, but it was getting darker outside, and he rose from the bed to light some candles. A knock came at the door, and when he answered it he was given his correspondence. Mrs. Howell still lay sleeping in the bed snoring quietly, skirts hiked up around her bare legs.

He ripped the string off the pile of letters and rifled through them. One each from Cornwallis and Clinton, both men were courting his and Tavington's support, but nothing was new there. They had been rivals since the beginning of the war. There was a letter from Tavington. Tarleton kept searching through, until he came across the one he had been waiting for, the one he had not been sure he would receive.

The one from Beth Martin.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and read his letter by the light of a candle. Beth was surprisingly frank, Banastre had to stifle his jealousy to read of her moments with Tavington, kissing in quiet corners. Though as he continued to read he became worried, events had taken a decidedly dark turn indeed.

He finished it quickly then read it again, a frown creasing his forehead.

Banastre had been in almost constant contact with Tavington over the past week and a half, a slew of letters had been sent back and forth between the two of them but almost all of the information had been regarding the war, and the political climate between Clinton and Cornwallis. He had asked William about Beth, but his friend had given him only cursory news at best, and so the contents of Beth's letter were a complete shock to him. Shocking, and worrisome indeed.

She ended the letter with her profession of continuing friendship and forgiveness over the wager, and hoped he was in good health, for she worried for him.

It surprised Banastre, that she did not ask for him to intercede on her behalf with Tavington. Judging by Beth's letter, his friend was acting increasingly erratic. He withheld his judgement, however, women tended to colour things in a certain light and while he knew that Tavington was both jealous and possessive, he felt that Beth was not telling him the entire story.

The Simms ball, however! Christ! Let Bordon try and tell Banastre he could not dance with Beth for he was not a Green Dragoon! Banastre sniffed disdainfully, it shocked him that Tavington would go to such lengths. It was a ball, for goodness sake, even Banastre could have reined his jealousy in and allowed Beth to dance with other men at a bloody ball!

The sooner he was recalled to Charles Town the better - if only to begin his own courtship of Beth. After all, she was not engaged to Tavington, his feelings for her gave him no more claim to her than Banastre's did. He would not be betraying William by his pursuit of Beth.

Besides, Banastre reasoned with growing irritation, he had seen her first!

Tarleton moved over to his desk, where he wrote a reply to Beth, speaking of how pleased he was to receive her letter and how much he missed her.

Only then did he open Tavington's letter, which was surprisingly thick - most of his missives had been short, thus far. Not this one, however, his friend was finally confiding in him on a personal level again, telling him what had been happening with Beth over the past week. A more accurate picture began to form in his mind, as he pieced the two letters together.

Tarleton picked up his quill once more, this time to write a letter to Cornwallis, begging him to intercede on his behalf, and have him returned to Charles Town. His work in New York was done, he would be needed on the Santee soon. He did not want to idle away in New York, pandering to Clinton when the Commander in Chief arrived. There was nothing he could do about William and Beth from New York and he feared that without his intercession, his friend and the woman Banastre loved would likely tear each other apart.


	28. Chapter 28 - In Pursuit of Beth

**Chapter 28 - In Pursuit Of Beth**

When they reached the Putman residence, Bordon dismounted, shooting William a wary glance as he did so. Tavington had led the mounted detachment through the front gate and right up the path to the front of the house. Some one hundred or so horses and Dragoons milling about in front of a manor house on, on a residential street would no doubt occasion comment.

Bordon scoffed to himself - this would be the talk of the town! Richard hoped that Tavington's information was correct. If it was not, Clinton was bound to haul the Lieutenant Colonel over the coals for this! There had been no time for explanations, Richard had not been debriefed. All he knew at this stage was that Mark Putman had managed to conceal his true allegiance and that he had some connection with Francis Marion.

One more thing Richard knew, his Commander was in a rage and ready to do murder.

Tavington's face was terrible.

Richard - a hardened soldier from four years of campaigning, was nervous. He knew what his Commander was capable of. When Tavington unleashed his fury he was dreadful, implacable and entirely without mercy. His mind whirled through the possibilities, he was still trying to figure out what this was all about. The most obvious possibility - Tavington had discovered that Miss Martin had, indeed, warned Burwell of the trap.

Richard followed William toward the house, praying fervently that this was not the case. Not after they had hung Ethan Cooke for the crime! Of course, as it came out in the interrogation, Cooke had been playing both sides for some time - he was guilty of treason. But even under his questioning, while he screamed with agony - he had maintained his innocence in regard to Burwell. Richard had believed him - he had watched the man hang, knowing in his very bones that Cooke had not warned Burwell, despite Cooke's other acts of treason.

Bordon pushed the matter out of his mind. If it was Beth, then Tavington would deal with her quietly. A caning perhaps. She would not go unpunished. Right now, Bordon's responsibility was ensuring no one else discover Beth's treason. Not for the girl herself. If she was guilty then she could hang for all Bordon cared. But for Tavington, who would suffer disgrace and embarrassment. A humiliation of this magnitude could do serious damage to the Officer's career. Bordon was too closely tied to Tavington - and too much of a friend - to allow that to happen.

The occupants of the house could not help but know that the Dragoons had arrived enforce, but no one was coming to the door. Tavington did not bother to knock. He slammed the door open, strode through the foyer and didn't stop until he was in the parlor. Mrs. Mage Putman and Miss Cilla Putman sat on a chaise nervously, trying and failing to hide their unease. Mr. Putman rose from a chair, all politeness.

"My dear Sir!" He said he said with concern. "What ever is the problem?"

Tavington strode forward, stiff and sure. He stopped abruptly before Putman, staring at the Colonial with his piercing pale gaze. Mark gulped, his eyes widened and his heart began to pound.

More Dragoons filed in to the parlor but most of them milled at the front of the house and in the foyer. Bordon made way for Captain Trellim, Captain Wilkins and Arthur Simms.

"Tell me, Mr. Putman," Tavington commanded crisply. "Are you a Loyalist or are you a Patriot?"

Mark's eyes darted briefly to Wilkins, a fellow Assembly man who would surely call him out if he lied. Best to try for an evasion.

"I... I _used_ to have some Patriotic leanings, Sir," Mark admitted. "I have seen the error of my way however and I am now an ardent Loyalist."

Wilkins began to laugh in derision.

"Patriotic leanings," he scoffed. "He damned near shouted the hall down when we came together to vote for or against South Carolina's participation in the war against Britain."

"And how did he vote," Tavington asked James without taking his eyes off Mark.

"With the Patriots, Sir," James replied. "He voted _for_ going to war with Britain and he celebrated well into the night with all the other Patriots when the vote went their way. He opened his home for Continental soldiers, allowed them to Billet here. Come to think of it, Burwell himself quartered here."

Tavington tightened his lips and held Mark's gaze steadily.

"I see. Thank you, Captain," he said finally. "Mr. Putman, your niece failed to mention that she has a brother in the Continental Army. I wish to speak with her about this lapse in judgement. Send for her, now."

Richard gazed on approvingly. Tavington could chastise Beth for failing to mention 'Corporal Gabriel Martin'. It would give him the excuse he needed to take the girl away without losing face before his men or - more importantly - before Clinton. Once Tavington had the girl in hand, he would be able to punish her thoroughly with no one the wiser.

It was an elegant move, Richard pinioned, one that would cause no harm to Tavington's reputation.

"Ah... Sir," Mark said nervously, his eyes darted around the room. "Beth is gone Sir, she left this morning."

Bordon's eyes widened and he exchanged a nervous glance with James Wilkins.

"I beg your pardon, I do not believe I heard you," Tavington leaned forward, his eyes were ice.

Mark faltered, never had he been so intimidated. Trellim and Banksia were in the room but neither would be able to protect him without exposing themselves. Besides, a quick glance out the window showed how many more Dragoons there were, and only a handful of them were Mark's. He swallowed, hard.

"My sister had word this morning," Mark began apprehensively. "She received urgent word - Miss Martin's father is ill. They decided to return to the Santee at once. Oooph..!" Mark bent over himself, clutching at his stomach.

Filled with fury, Tavington had balled his hand into a fist and punched Mark so hard, the breath left his lungs. Mark bowed in the middle, his eyes bulging as he bought for air.

William recovered himself quickly. Easing his expression he uncurled his his fist, his arm returning to his side. He stared down his nose at Mark, dispassionate once more. The two women gasped with shock, Cilla began to cry.

"To the Santee, you say?" Tavington's voice was almost pleasant, but Bordon was not fooled. There was murderous intent and rage under that polite facade. Bordon eyed Cilla and Mage, beautiful women both. He wondered which of the Dragoons would be allowed first go at them. Miss Putman had a saucy tongue, Bordon himself would not mind putting her in her place. Tavington continued with a small, chilly smile. "Mr. Martin is ill? Oh dear, it sounds serious."

"It is..." Putman gasped. "Beth... She left you a note, Sir. In my office, I'll get -"

"Stay right there, Sir." Tavington commanded curtly. "Tell Bordon where it is and he will get it."

"Ah... In my desk... Top drawer - my office, down the hall."

Bordon was already moving.

His long strides carried him quickly to Putman's office and he found Beth's at once.

Anticipating Tavington's unspoken command, the Captain began another search. Dragging out drawers, he reached his arm in under the desk, feeling for secret compartments. There were several, however each one was empty. He continued his search around the room. Looking behind paintings, finding more secret compartments - all empty. Bordon surmised they had found a spy in Mr. Mark Putman, if all of these secret compartments were any indication. All large enough to hold letters and the like.

Bordon had a quick look in the fireplace and found it filled with ashes. When he felt them, they were still warm. Putman must have burnt the incriminating evidence as soon as he realised the Dragoons were coming. Perhaps he was forewarned... He would have only had minutes to spare, to have destroyed the evidence so quickly.

The man kept slaves, however and Bordon resolved to question them.

He returned and handed Tavington the only letter he had found. It was heavy, weighed down, as though it contained something large inside.

"I found no other missives or letters, Sir," he kept his voice pitched low for Tavington's ears alone. "Though there were plenty of hidden compartments to secrete such, all of them were empty. There was a pile of ashes in the fireplace, he had burnt them before we arrived. I'd say he was forewarned."

"I dare say. Thank you, Captain. Keep them in here - they are not to leave," he took the envelope from Bordon's hands. "I will read Miss Martin's letter in private, upstairs. See that I am not disturbed."

"As you wish, Sir."

"Captain Trellim," William snapped as he left the parlor. "Discover how Miss Martin managed to slip by the guard set to watch her, I would like to know why I was not alerted of her departure."

"Yes, Sir."

Tavington marched up the stairs, down the corridor on the next landing and entered Beth's room. He noticed at once that it still felt of her - it still held her scent, her essence. Kicking the door closed, he stood by her bed and gazed at her pillow - they had spent two hours in this very room, kissing, their heads resting on that very pillow.

No time for such sentiments...

Dropping to his knees, he lifted the bottom of the beds coverlet aside to search for the case holding her letters.

It was gone.

He tightened his lips and threw down the coverlet. Of course she would take it, it held all of her personal correspondence. Including letters from her Continental brother. He suspected that those letters would have been destroyed days ago. He should have taken the damned case when he'd had the opportunity.

Rising to his feet he began searching her room. Her wardrobe, her desk. All emptied - there was no trace of her or her belongings, no more letters - nothing.

Stepping up to the window, he glanced out and brooded over what might have been in Corporal Martin's correspondence. What had he written to her, what was Beth trying to protect? There could be no other explanation for her to disguise the fact that her brother was a Continental.

_Putman is a spy - he will know, _Tavington suspected. The man must be questioned.

It was now almost a certainty that Beth had warned Burwell of the trap - she had the means after all. All she had to do was tell her traitor Uncle.

_On my honor, I vow to protect you, come what may._

He curled his lip as he stared at the letter in her hand. He couldn't read it now, he was running out of time as it was. He tried to gage how far along the rode she would be by now. Not so far that he couldn't catch up to her.

He shoved the letter into his pocket. He would leave a small force here. But the Dragoons would ride for Beth now, before she travelled much further. He would have her back in hand, back in Charles Town within the hour.

And then what?

Arrest Putman on suspicion of treason... But what of Beth?

_I vow to protect you, come what may._

Very well. He would take her to the Tisdale residence 'for her protection'. She was the only 'Loyalist' in her family after all especially with Putman proving himself a Patriot. That was the report he would present Clinton, in any case.

:::::::::::::

It's now or never, Zeke thought as he approached the room that, for the last two years, had belonged to Miss Martin.

Mila was gone - he might never see her again. She had made it clear to him that she would not marry him while he was a slave and Zeke had despaired, knowing that Putman would never free him. He knew too much of Putman's activities, his spying and his treason. No, Putman would keep Zeke close.

The slave had considered running away, but Putman was close friends with Francis Marion. One of Marion's tasks was to chase down runaway slaves - those men trying to join the British to fight for their own freedom. Putman had already warned Zeke that if he tried to fun, he'd have Marion chase him down and kill him on the spot.

And so Zeke had remained, desolate even with his beloved Mila so close, for he could never truly be with her.

But now the house was filled with Dragoons and Tavington was having Putman held under house arrest. This was Zeke's chance - to free himself. There was no danger now, he could leave with the Dragoons after he told Tavington everything he knew!

He would be freed, and after the war, he would find Mila and they could finally be together.

It's now or never.

Zeke knocked on Beth's bedchamber door and crept in quietly.

:::::

"I said I was not to be disturbed!" Tavington snapped as the door was opened. He cut short when an African man sidled in to the room.

"Ah... I'm sorry for disturbin' you, Sir," the man said as he dragged a cap from his head. "I ah... That is..."

"Time is short," Tavington snapped. "What do you want? Quickly, man!"

Beth was slipping away, at that moment, the carriage taking her further from Charles Town, further from him. He had to catch up to her, she could not be allowed to escape him so easily.

The young slave panicked and burst out all in a rush, "I wanna marry my sweetheart but she won't 'cause I'm a slave. So I wanna join the army an' earn me freedom, but I can't on account of bein' owned by the Master. Mr. Putman, that is. I know too much and he wont let me go 'cause of it. He's thick with the Fox and I didn'a wanna be killed, if caught. But I want me freedom, Sir, and was told I'd get it if I joined, and you're here now, I can leave with you -"

"Slow down, slow down..." Tavington held his arm out in a placating gesture. His eyes narrowed,_ he 'knows too much'? _

"It is true, His Majesty King George has decreed that all slaves who fight for the Crown will earn their freedom. If you desire to fight, you can indeed come away with me when I leave and I will find a place for you amongst the Ethiopian regiments. Perhaps you will find a place with Colonel Tye, leader of the Black Brigade -"

"Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you!"

"Now!" Tavington silenced the other man mid thanks. "You know too much, you said? You are aware of Putman's involvement with Marion the Fox?"

"Yessim, he has me doing things, delivering notes and all. And yeh, I's aware of their... Involvement."

"How long has Putman owned you for?" Tavington asked coldly.

"Eight years, sir."

"And in that time, have you been privy to Putman's activities, beyond exchanging letters? Does he speak freely in front of you?"

Zeke stared at Tavington with a blank expression.

"Is the man a spy, or not?" Tavington barked, put of patience.

"Oh... Yes, sir," Zeke nodded. "That he is, Sir. And yes, I've been... Privy..." He said as though saying the word for the first time. "Yessim. He is careful he is, but I've heard many things."

"Very well. I will question you further when I have more time. You will remain here until I return -"

"Sir!" Zeke panicked. "If Putman finds out, I'll be beaten and -"

"I am leaving a small force here, you will be safe enough I assure you. Now quickly, before I leave - do you know if Miss Martin shared information with Mark Putman regarding a plot against Colonel Burwell?"

"Yes, sir, she did," Zeke said, stifling a stab of guilt. Beth had always been kind to Mila and Zeke, but he was to join the British army and he must answer Tavington's questions truthfully. "Mila told me. She's Miss Martin's made and my sweetheart too. Mila was mighty worried that you would get angry and take Miss Martin away, but its true Sir. She sent that Burwell a letter, telling him everything."

William was momentarily overcome with rage. It had been so consuming, he could barely breathe. If she had been before him right then, Beth may not have survived the encounter.

"Tell me all you know of it," Tavington commanded harshly. He began firing questions at Zeke, one after the other. He discovered that Beth had been planning on leaving Charles Town since Burwell departed. Her own departure had been delayed due to her Aunt Charlotte having to tend to a sick relative. Francis Marion's presence was finally explained. Zeke informed Tavington that the Fox was in place to assist Beth in case Tavington came after her. Eventually, after five minutes of drilling the slave, Tavington stopped the questioning.

"Time is running short, I must go after her now. Your Mila is with her, you say?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then she will be bought back also. You will be granted your freedom and can join the army. However - you are not to breathe a word of what you have told me, to anyone else, do you understand?"

Zeke nodded. Tavington leaned in close, threatening.

"Not another soul. Not another Officer. I wish to protect your sweetheart's mistress and I can not do that if you shoot off a the mouth."

"I won't Sir," Zeke replied with a shudder. The Officer was staring at him intently, his expression murderous.

The slave had seen that expression before, on a white man who flogged his slave so severely the slave died. He had been just a youth at the time, and was sold shortly later to Putman, but he remembered.

"Very well. If luck is on our side, we'll have your sweetheart back here within the hour," Tavington informed Zeke as he strode to the door. "I've tarried here long enough."

::::::::::::

Tavington marched down the steps, taking two at a time. He exploded into the parlor in a fury and all eyes turned to him.

"It is as Clinton feared," Tavington announced to his Dragoons. "Burwell has managed to make off with Miss Martin, no doubt to punish her for betraying him, as he threatened to do in the letter he had delivered to me in the Square."

"Jesus," Wilkins muttered. The other Dragoons were likewise concerned. They had no reason to suspect he might be lying - William had only confided his suspicions to Bordon, no one else. He could still salvage the situation. He could make Beth appear as though she had been abducted and was now in need of rescue.

"I now know why Francis Marion was waiting outside Charles Town," he continued, twisting what Zeke had told him to suit his own ends. "He was to intercept Miss Martin on the road and deliver her directly to Burwell. Miss Martin has been lied to - her father is not ill. It was a deception to lure her from Town."

"Thats a lie!" Mark cried with outrage. Tavington stepped up close to Mark and sneered. He kept his pitched his voice low, a bare whisper meant for Mark alone.

"I have been informed that she wrote a letter of warning to Burwell," he began softly. "And that you had it delivered. Would you like her to hang for treason? You are facing the noose right now, also."

Mark's face blanched. He looked past Tavington, saw Zeke standing in the doorway and knew instantly that the slave had turned informant.

"No, I would not like her to hang," Mark whispered back.

"Then let me do my job and protect her!" Tavington hissed. "She must be above suspicion so I suggest you remain silent!"

"What will you do with her, when you catch her?" Mark asked.

_I will marry her and if she dares refuse me, I will threaten to reveal her treason. _

"Worry for yourself, Putman," Tavington ground out, leaving his thoughts unvoiced. "I am the only one who can protect her now."

Mark lowered his eyes and took a step back.

William turned to Richard.

"Captain Bordon, gather the entire Green Dragoon unit - I want them assembled at the Hall," he commanded, then turned back to Mark as Bordon darted out of the room. "You have a reprieve, Mr. Putman. I am leaving now to _rescue_ Miss Martin from Francis Marion. When I return, you will be questioned at length then, regarding your involvement with Burwell and Marion. I have no doubt you co-operated with Burwell, allowing him to take Miss Martin from my protection."

Mark's eyes widened and Tavington pinned him with a piercing glare. It would be folly to make an argument now, Tavington had twisted everything to make it appear as if Beth had been abducted. Mark chose to hold his silence for now, for if Tavington did return with Beth, it was imperative that she appear blameless for her own sake. Tavington would protect her, he'd said.

Nevertheless, Mark feared for her. Tavington's protection would come at some great, personal cost to Beth, Putman was certain of it.

"Captain Wilkins, I will leave you with twenty Dragoons. The Putman's are under house arrest. Keep them in this room, with a strong guard."

"Yes, Sir."

The Putman's made no protest. Mark collapsed heavily in a chair, hanging his head in defeat.

Tavington whirled from the room, Simms following behind.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"So far so good," Polly murmured without looking up from her knitting. She was making a baby jacket for her sister's little one.

"Yes, we have made it out of Charles Town at least," Charlotte replied. "But we are not safe yet. Francis Marion has had to retreat quite a few miles from Town, he was almost caught yesterday as it was. If the Dragoons bear down on us now, he will not be able to help."

"Do you think Tavington will come for me, Aunt?"

"Yes. If he learns early enough. If the Dragoons guarding the house realise our deception in time to do something about it. I will not be happy until I see Marion - and that will not be at least for another half an hour."

"It still surprises me that they would mistake me for Cilla, I don't think we look that much alike."

Beth had gone to great lengths to disguise herself as he cousin, borrowing one of Cilla's dresses and Mila had fixed her hair the way Cilla wore hers. As they were climbing into the carriage, Mage and Mark had waved from the path, calling out 'see you this afternoon, behave yourself, Cilla!' While the real Cilla hid away inside the house. "I can't imagine that Green Dragoons could be so easily fooled."

"Usually, not," Charlotte replied. "But Trellim ensured there were young men, unfamiliar with you, standing watch when we were due to depart. Their inexperience has helped us escape."

"Do you think they'll be punished?"

"Almost certainly."

Beth sighed with guilt. "Perhaps we should pick up the pace? I'm beginning to feel a little anxious, myself." She could not explain why, but she could feel... something... a weight, a doom. Her hands shook as she began to imagine the worst.

"Perhaps..." Charlotte turned in her seat and spoke quietly to the driver through the open window.

"We can't go too fast of course," she said as the carriage lurched forward. "We could throw a wheel or lame the horses..."

Polly put her knitting away. Now that they were moving faster, the carriage bounced so much she could not longer form the stitches.

"We just need to reach Marion, and then he will take us home. We'll be safe there."

Charlotte nodded, though she was not so sure of that herself. She had spoken at length with both Beth and Cilla and it was Charlotte's belief that Tavington had become obsessed with Beth - he would pursue her all the way to Fresh Water, she had no doubt.

Beth was not safe - and would not be safe until she was married to Burwell and surrounded by soldiers in the Continental camp.

They fell silent, watching the landscape rushing past them faster now. After half an hour or so, another sound became discernible over the lurch of the fast moving carriage.

The women frowned, all of them. They could hear a low hum, and it was getting louder. Before long, the hum became a low rumble. With shaking hands, Beth pulled aside the curtain covering the rear of the window.

"Oh..." She breathed, her face turning white and when Charlotte leaned forward to take a look, she gasped fearfully.

The rumble was thunderous now, the mounted men bearing down on them quickly over took them and the carriage lurched to a stop.

:::

Beth frowned, as seventy or so riders wearing tan leathers and woolens bore down toward them. Though it was not the Green Dragoons, they were still incredibly intimidating.

"Bandits!" Mila shrieked.

"Lieutenant Colonel Francis Marion," Charlotte corrected calmly.

"No, we are too close to Charles Town!" Beth gasped. "He wouldn't be so close - surely! Not after William had chased after him only yesterday!"

"You do not know the temerity of the man," a small smile quirked Charlotte's lips.

"You've met him?" Beth asked, surprised.

"Indeed. Stop, Mr. Talene," she called and the carriage lurched to a halt.

The horses with their Patriot militia riders thundered past, and the column began to slow. They could hear men shouting and swearing, horses stamping, blowing heavily from their hard ride. Charlotte opened the carriage door and Beth saw a man dismounting beyond. Middle years - older than her father. Bigger too, a very large man - easily James Wilkins height. Dark hair and blue eyes, as was common for the area.

"Mrs. Selton!" The man greeted as he helped Charlotte out of the carriage.

"Sir," Charlotte said calmly. "What is the meaning of this - you've frightened us half to death!"

"Not you, surely and not Miss Martin," the man bowed to her as she climbed out behind Charlotte. "According to Colonel Burwell, you are as brave as a lioness," he laughed.

"Not always, Sir," Beth smiled weakly.

"Marion the Fox, at your service, Miss," he swept a bow - flourishing enough to put Banastre to shame.

Beth curtsied and introduced Mila and Polly.

"Right then," he turned to Charlotte. "As to why I am here - well, to rescue you of course!" He turned suddenly serious. "Tavington. Banksia sent word not long ago that the Butcher has descended upon your brother with almost his full host of Green Dragoons. He discovered Miss Martin has left and he announced that she has been abducted and is in need of rescuing. He will have left Charles Town by now, we don't have much time."

"Rescuing!" Beth gasped. "Oh, my God! Is Uncle Mark all right? What of Aunt Mage and Cilla?"

Charlotte's horrified expression mirrored Beth's.

"I do not know," Marion shook his head. "All I do know is that we do not have much time. They could be heading over that rise any moment now." He pointed back along the road, it was a subtle hill - barely worthy of the name but they would not know the Green Dragoons were upon them until they crested the rise and then they would have no time at all to flee. "And so, the four of you - and your driver also, will need to come with us, now."

"In the carriage?" Charlotte asked hopefully.

Marion laughed again. "Alas, no. The carriage will not be able to go where we are going. Take what you can carry, if it is valuable, but please Mrs. Selton, be quick about it?"

"Of course," accepting the situation had changed, Charlotte swung into action.

Marion admired her as she rounded on the other women, marshaled them as he would his troops. In very short order they had bundled their valuables - the items they could not bear to lose and then each woman was helped behind to mount behind a rider.

"We will be riding hard, I'm afraid," Marion warned the women. "You will have to hold on tight and move with the horse. You'll have sore... ah... rears... tonight, but at least you will not be captives."

"I've not ridden since I was a little girl," Charlotte lamented as she adjusted her skirts around her legs, trying to keep them decently covered.

"I've not ridden for four years," Beth sighed.

"Yes, well... I won't pretend it will be an enjoyable experience for you!" He said cheerily. "But just think - we've snatched you out from under the nose of the Butcher! He'll be mightily peeved I'd say!"

"He certainly will," Beth murmured and sighed again, nowhere near as enthusiastic as the Fox. She was helped to mount behind a militiaman, who introduced himself as Mr. Doyle.

The Patriot militia set off at a gallop, heading for the woodlands beyond the open pastures. Once there, a cry was raised, the column slowed within the shelter of the woods and Marion galloped back toward them. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he peered back the way they had come. Small clouds of dust rose in the distance, barely discernible.

"Green Dragoons."

Beth gasped.

"Never fear, Miss Martin." He whirled his horse and barked commands, and the militia thundered away through the woods.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Tavington slowed the Dragoons down as he approached the abandoned carriage. He drew alongside and peered through the door, yes - abandoned.

He dismounted swiftly and jerked the door open, searching for... Anything. Frustrated, he slammed the door shut. He resisted the urge to open it and slam it shut again, to keep slamming it until it pulled off its hinges. Breathing heavily, he reined himself in, unwilling to show such a display before his men.

"Gone, Sir." Bordon reported.

"Quite obviously," Tavington snapped.

"Yes," Bordon said delicately, sensitive to Tavington's fury. "But, judging by those tracks, I would say they only have a ten minute lead, if that."

"I see." Tavington stalked to the back of the carriage and in one smooth motion, he reached up and hefted down a trunk from the roof. It dropped with a loud thud.

"How the Devil could those fools mistake Beth for Miss Putman?" He growled under his breath as he rifled through the chest - only dresses and shifts, nothing of import.

"They do look alike, Sir," Bordon whispered reasonably. "And it did not help matters that the family assisted with the deception."

"Yes, they did help," Tavington pulled down another chest from the roof, it landed with a greater, more satisfying crash. More dresses - these ones where Beth's, however, he recognized them at once. "A folly they will be made to regret very soon." He said darkly as he rifled through the chest.

Finally! At the bottom of the chest was her small case in which she kept her correspondence. Ignoring the clothes that now scattered the ground, he strode back to his horse with the case in hand. He doubted, even now, that she would have kept Gabriel's letters, but he would search the case anyway.

"Your orders, Sir?" Bordon asked calmly.

"I want the carriage driven back to Charles Town," Tavington ordered coldly and Bordon nodded to two Dragoons who began collecting the dresses and loading the chests back onto the carriage.

"Miss Martin has been taken," Tavington called loudly for the benefit of his men as he tied the case to his saddle and mounted his horse gracefully. "Clinton wants her protected, we must rescue her. We will no doubt be faced with Marion and his militia, perhaps we can finally capture the bastard!"

"Huzzah!" The excited call came from his men.

"Pursuit!" He shouted and kicked his heels to his horse's flanks, following the tracks of many horses leading away into the woods.

Francis _fucking_ Marion! Tavington raged. To catch the rebel leader now...

He allowed himself a small smile as he moved with the fast galloping charger. A victory indeed, if he was able to capture both his traitorous lover _and_ Marion the Fox.

:::

"We are gaining on them, Sir. They started with a ten minute lead, but we've cut that half at least." Simms judged during one of their short stops.

"Yes, at this rate we'll have them caught in a half hour or so," Tavington smiled, elated - it would not be long now. He'll take her back to Charles town. She must be exhausted. A vision came to mind, of him curled up at her side, sleeping in his large bed at the Tisdale residence.

But first he must deal with her betrayal. He would comfort her afterward, of course.

"Soon," he whispered, then ordered the company move out again.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"How far?" Marion demanded.

"They have gained on us - I expect we'll see the dust from their ride soon, Sir." The militia man judged.

Beth gasped and glanced at Charlotte. It had been such a mad ride and the women were terrified - the militia were outnumbered two to one. Every time they stopped to rest the horses Beth fretted that they could be caught. She was only mildly reassured by the necessity of the Green Dragoons to rest their horses also.

Nevertheless Tavington and his men were gaining on them and Marion had indicated that the Dragoons would not be stopping any more. They would push their horses harder now, and would be closing the distance between them quickly.

"Trellim and Banksia are probably with them," Charlotte mused. "Perhaps they will do something to slow them down?"

"I can't imagine what, Mrs. Selton," Marion shook his head. "Let's pick up the pace. We head for the gorge and into the trails there - that ought to slow them down."

"Yes, Sir!"

And they were off again.

There had been no time for more than a cursory introduction to Mr. Doyle, the man with who she was mounted, but Beth hung on to him for dear life as they flew toward the Whitewater Falls Gorge.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"They are pulling ahead again, Sir! They must have seen us." Simms shouted over the thunder of his horse's gallop. The dust kicked up by the rebel militias passage was visible now.

"Can you tell where they are headed?" Tavington shouted back.

"Whitewater Gorge, I imagine," Simms guided his horse around a fallen tree trunk while Tavington simply jumped his horse over it. "They know the area well. If they slip behind the waterfall, they'll be across the river. All they have to do is destroy the bridge behind them and they'll be out of our reach. Our only advantage is that they must take the crossing one at a time."

"Then hurry - I want them caught!" Tavington grated, determination in every line of his body.

Marion will _not_ get away with her.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Right then!" Marion began marshaling his men and barking orders. He selected twelve men to escort the women. "You lot - make the crossing now - get to the women to the other side and be quick about it. Protect them at all costs."

He moved away to bark more orders, racing back down the line, trying to get his men ready to make the crossing under the waterfalls and across the river. It was slow going, the twelve selected to protect the women led the way.

As tempting as it was to squeeze her eyes shut and bury her face in Mr. Doyles back, she resisted the urge and bravely gazed at her surroundings. It was a beautiful sight, she had heard about it but never seen it before. The sun shone through the body of water as it rushed downward, ever downward, casting an eerie glow through the cave. The horses stepped carefully into the large cavern that ran the length of the waterfall, Beth and the others were soaked in seconds by the fine spray from the raging fall of water. It was loud - so very loud, the water made such a racket that if Doyle had tried to speak to her, she doubted she would have been able to hear him. One slip on the rocky floor and... Beth didn't want to think about it - many people had died crossing at Whitewater before.

Step after ginger step, and finally they were through. They stepped onto the wooden bridge that spanned from the mouth of the cave to the other side of the gorge. When Beth glanced down she saw sharp, jagged rocks, no horse would have been able to cross from the cave to the woods without the bridge. She could see now, why Marion wanted the bridge destroyed. She just hoped all the militiamen got through before the Dragoons were upon them.

Her rider, Mr. Doyle, spurred forward, getting out of the way of the men still coming through. When they were in the woods beyond, they turned to watch the progress of the rest of their group. More militiamen came through the cave, until at least twenty five made the crossing.

"They are coming," a militiaman said quietly beside them. Charlotte's rider edged his horse closer and Beth reached for the other woman's hand, clasping their fingers. A quick glance over her shoulder and Beth spied Mila and Polly, and Charlottes driver, Mr. Talene. Beth sat frozen as she watched the Dragoons, led by Tavington, emerge from the woods on the other side of the divide.

They could not hear them, not over the sounds of the waterfall, but they could see them clearly. At least one hundred and forty Green Dragoons, ready to battle the forty or so Patriots still caught on the other side of the falls.

Marion was barking orders - Beth could see him across the river but could not hear him. The remaining men took on a defensive position.

"They are making a stand," one militiaman, the last to come through, explained to the group at large. "Marion has ordered the bridge destroyed."

"But he won't be able to get through!" Beth gasped with horror.

"No, he won't, there will be a skirmish, very soon now. Marion will try and escape - however, the waterfall is no longer an option for them."

"Oh, God, this is all my fault," Beth swayed in the saddle as she watched Tavington, who seemed as focused and intent on his quarry as a drawn arrow. "Marion could die!"

Dear Lord, _William_ could die!

"It is not your fault!" Charlotte snapped. "Ridiculous."

"Marion is a soldier, Miss. He has his orders, and we have ours. If he dies, it was in the line of duty and no one can be held to blame." This from Mr. Doyle as he assisted Beth down, quickly dismounting after her. "I am going to see if I can help destroy the bridge. You ladies," he addressed all four women who began to cluster together, "will remain here. You are safe enough for the moment but be ready to ride in a hurry."

When the militiaman disappeared, the four women stood in a huddle. Their eyes were pinned on the Green Dragoons and the Patriots, facing off on the other side of the river.


	29. Chapter 29 - Battle at the Falls

**Chapter 29 - Battle at the Falls**

Tavington, his face set like stone, waved his arm in precise movements - signals. His Dragoons fanned out, penning the Patriot Militia against the falls. The gap was only wide enough for one to cross at a time, and as some of the rebels had already crossed, his men were now facing a much smaller group, led by Marion himself. Tavington allowed a small smile as he approached the rebel leader, who he now outnumbered three to one.

"Lieutenant Colonel Marion," he drawled quietly. "Colonel William Tavington, at your service."

His smile and polite tone belied the violent anger he held on a tight leash. The two men had never met before, they knew each other by reputation only.

"At my service? Hear that, lads?" Marion glanced around at his men. "The Butcher, and at my service, no less."

Tavington's smile broadened, Marion's attempt to provoke him was pitiful at best.

"Fox," he murmured with slow satisfaction. No matter the outcome, Marion was either caught, or dead. The rebel leader knew it, also, Tavington could see it in the other mans eyes. He pitched his voice high enough to be heard over the falls. "Yield, Sir, and I will see you returned to Charles Town."

"To hang like a thief? I'd rather die here."

"Order your men to cease their attempt to destroy the bridge and return my fiancé to me now," Tavington said in a clipped tone.

Marion quirked an eyebrow in surprise, and mouthed '_fiancé?_', clearly bewildered.

Tavington smiled coldly again and continued.

"Miss Beth Martin, Marion. I want her back here, now. Do this," his voice became beguiling, and he edged his horse closer to the rebel's. "And I will see you do not hang. I vow it, on my honor."

"Your honor? Your honor is worth shit," Marion spat with derision. "_Tavington's quarter_! Here you are, outnumbering us three to one. You have no honor! And you have no mercy."

"No, that I do not," Tavington agreed. "Your decision?"

"The Devil take you!" Marion shouted. "Benjamin Martin is a man I respect and call friend! I'd not give you his daughter - not for my life! You can rot in the fucking fires of Hell!"

"Very well," Tavington frowned, his face was hard, carved from ice.

He glanced over the river and met Beth's eyes. Though she was well out of reach with the gorge between them, she was close enough that he could see the horror in her expression. She clutched her Aunt's arm, fearful of what was to come.

So close, yet so far. He turned his cool, pitiless gaze to Marion. "You had your chance."

He pulled his pistol.

"Charge!" He called and every single Dragoon pulled their pistols. The militia did likewise and shots rang out, loud even over the roar of the waterfall. Men fell, horses screamed. Another volley of shots from the second lot of loaded pistols, then with their bullets spent, the two groups surged together, snarling with bloodlust and faces twisted with rage.

:::::::::::::::::::

As the horrified women watched, men from both sides of the conflict fell before their eyes. Loyalist against Patriot, the battle raged on the other side of the gorge.

Tavington was hit. The force of the bullet twisted him, he jerked back and Beth saw blood gush from his shoulder.

She _screamed_, a loud and piercing shriek of horror. He must have heard her - his head jerked in her direction, their gazes locked once more - his eyes filled with bloodlust, hers with terror, terror for him. But then the Patriot militia closed and the fighting began in earnest. Tavington swung and parried, despite his wound, cutting men down before her very eyes.

:::::::::::::::::::

Tavington barely registered the pain of the shot in his shoulder, bloodlust burned through his veins making him insensible to anything but the battle that raged around him. Nevertheless, when Beth's scream split the air, heard even over the sound of battle and over the roar of the waterfall, a thrill of fear rifled through him.

Fear for her.

Thinking she was in danger, he twisted his horse in her direction. Her eyes were on him, however, her hands covered her mouth as though to stop more screams. She seemed about to faint from terror - though her terror was for him. She was in no danger. He tightened his lips, vexed at his moment of weakness and returned his attention to the skirmish.

He drew his sword and slammed it into a rebel chest, all the while looking for Marion.

The man had denied him, had not given Beth back to him. The bridge would be destroyed and regardless of the outcome of this battle, Beth will be lost to him because of it. Because the Fox had denied him. He saw Marion fighting one on one with a wounded and tiring Bordon and with a bloodthirsty smile the Officer urged his horse forward, closing the distance quickly.

Just in time too. Bordon could not get his saber up and Marion the Fox was raising his sword for the killing stroke, when Tavington was abruptly before him. With a quick flick of his wrist he turned the killing stroke aside and began his own dance with the Fox.

:::::::::::::::::::

Beth watched helplessly as Tavington fought for his life. When there were no more adversaries he darted forward to relieve Bordon and began fighting Francis Marion. The two men were evenly matched but it was over quickly.

She could not pull her eyes away from her wounded and bleeding lover. His face was twisted with feral concentration, he saw his opening and sliced his saber deeply across the Foxes chest. Marion clutched at his chest, the he toppled from his horse.

Tavington glanced around for more opponents, but they were all down, dead, wounded and yielding.

:::::::::::::::::::

"Kill them," Tavington commanded with a sneer. Bordon had expected it. Despite his wounds, he nodded to two Dragoons and the three men dispatched the wounded and yielding rebels while Tavington watched calmly, dispassionately.

He crossed his hands over the pommel of his saddle, his eyes locked with Beth across the great divide. She stared back, her face grave as Bordon carried out the grisly task.

"Sir," Simms asked at his side.

"Corporal." Tavington responded without pulling his gaze from Beth's.

"Your orders? We could try to cross under the falls -"

"We could only die, Corporal. We would be sitting ducks, and it would be for nothing. The bridge is already destroyed."

As he watched, Beth's maid and Aunt took her by the arms to turn her away but Beth shook them both off, not breaking her eyes from his. Her Aunt was speaking to her urgently, but Beth ignored her. Tavington smiled, a slow smile filled with promise and Beth shivered.

"Corporal, Sir?" Simms frowned.

"It seems fitting," Tavington replied as the last rebel died on Bordon's sword. "You have earned it thrice over."

"Thank you, sir," the boy swelled with pride.

"I will speak with Clinton about it as soon as we return," Tavington said. "Have your wounds seen to, Corporal. And Fox - I want him returned to Charles Town."

"Yes, Sir. I will have a Corpsman attend your wounds, also."

Tavington nodded.

"What of Miss Martin," Simms asked, glancing in her direction across the divide.

"She is lost to me," William replied coldly. "For now."

:::::::::::::::::::

Bordon and two other Dragoons moved amongst the wounded rebels, killing them where they lay. Tavington's orders, Beth did not doubt it, he sat astride his horse, his eyes fixed on hers and his expression was stone. Utterly pitiless.

The Butcher.

It was a slaughter and Beth could not take her eyes off of it, off of him.

"Is the bridge out?" A quiet murmur - though Beth had no idea why they would whisper - the falls drowned out most noise.

"Yes, we can leave - they can not offer pursuit." The equally quiet reply.

"We will watch for a few moments more, then. Make sure they will not try for pursuit."

"Beth, come away," Charlotte and Mila stood on either side of her, but Beth shook them off. "Beth, you should not be watching this!" Charlotte said urgently, speaking of Bordon's dispatching of the Patriot wounded. Beth ignored her as she studied William's face for the slightest emotion, a hint of humanity.

He smiled at her. Despite all the carnage, the dead, and broken bodies, he smiled. It seemed to hold a world of deadly intent and sent chills up her spine, making her shiver. Other Redcoats bustled about, Arthur Simms spoke to Tavington, then moved away.

Beth's eyes still on Tavington as a Dragoon tended his shoulder and many other wounds. He was stone, barely registering pain as the corpsman poked and prodded him. His cold eyes stared across the river, his implacable gaze fixed on her.

"Mount!" Mr. Doyle commanded, drawing her attention, "we are leaving."

Beth glanced at William one last time, then turned her back on him to mount her horse. The detachment rode out.

::::::::::::::::::::

The Green Dragoons rode straight back to Charles Town. The wounded were taken to medical units while Tavington and Bordon went directly to Clinton to make their report. Clinton was not alone - many of his Aide De Camps were in attendance.

"Mr. Putman a Patriot all along?" Clinton frowned. "I should have listened to you and had Miss Martin removed from his household! Dear Lord, she is probably in Burwell's clutches now!"

"I fear so, Sir," Tavington ground out.

Clinton paced to the large bank of windows and stared out tensely. There was nothing he could do for the girl now, however. The foolish child - leaving his protection to tend her father. A dutiful lass, to tend her father so, but foolish nevertheless.

"Continue your report, Tavington," Clinton said over his shoulder.

William told of his gathering the Green Dragoons in an attempt to 'rescue' Beth. He made it clear that he hoped he would encounter Marion the Fox, in case the Commander in Chief chastised him for taking so many Dragoons from Charles Town. He described the chase, and the skirmish.

"The Fox was dueling with Captain Bordon, who had sustained too many wounds and was faltering. I intervened. We fought and when I had an opening I sliced him across the chest. He died of his wound on the way back here."

"Ah, some good news!" Clinton cried passionately. He turned from the window, his face alight with elation. "Good Lord, man - I knew you could do it! Well done indeed! Marion the Fox, dead! The rebels will lose heart now - he was the only thing holding them together!"

"There is still Colonel Burwell and General Gates, Sir," Tavington would have preened under the praise normally, but this victory was blighted by his loss of Beth.

His words were barely heard by the other Generals and Aides, all calling for wine so that they might congratulate Tavington.

William took it in his stride, his face a mask of stone as he seethed over his loss.

:::::::::::::::

"Bordon, return to the Tisdale manor and organize for our belongings to be packed, we are shifting residence," Tavington commanded crisply as he mounted his horse.

"Changing residence?" Bordon asked. "Only a few weeks before we ride for the Santee? Where will we be quartered?"

"The Putman's." Tavington replied. "Miss Jutland also, if you wish. The Putman's will make no protest to your Mistress's presence, I assure you." His voice was firm and threatening, almost hoping they _would_ make protest.

Bordon began to laugh, then he stopped abruptly and wince, clutching the wound in his side.

"Very good, Sir." Still chuckling, he mounted carefully and nodded curtly to his men. He rode away in the direction of the Tisdale's manor.

Tavington led the remainder of his Dragoons to the Putman's. Once there, he handed his reins curtly to an under Officer before striding purposefully into the manor. The family were still where he had left them several hours earlier, with Wilkins standing watch over them. The tension was palpable, William could feel it as soon as he entered the parlor.

He stopped short, gazing coldly down at Mark Putman, who said not a word. Tavington considered his options as he studied the other man. Zeke the slave had given him a goodly amount of information earlier and there was still more to be told. The slave would not know _everything_, however. Putman himself would need to be questioned.

"Lieutenant Anders, have Mr. Putman escorted to the cells." He commanded quietly.

"No!" Mage and Cilla cried in unison. Tavington ignored them both, his gaze fixed on Putman as the man rose to his feet.

"On what charge?" Putman asked in a steady voice.

"Treason," Tavington replied calmly. "Sedition against the Crown and His Majesty King George."

Mark's hands convulsed once, then stilled. Tavington smiled, a small, dispassionate smile, as Mark was dragged from the room.

"Now," he rounded on the women and addressed them in a crisp voice. "I am seizing your home, Mrs. Putman," he informed her.

The two women clutched at each other, fear shining in their eyes.

"The two of you will be allowed to reside here, sequestered in one room. You will have no contact with anyone outside this house without my expression permission, which you will not get, so you will have contact with no one."

"Sir -" Mage breathed. Cilla, for once, was at a loss for words.

"You will not be able to leave," Tavington ploughed over her relentlessly. "You are officially under house arrest. Be thankful you are not confined to the the cells with your husband."

The two women shared a glance, their breasts heaved with fear.

"I will choose a room for you to share myself. You may continue to manage the house, catering for the needs of my Dragoons."

"You can't mean -" Mage cut off with a gasp.

"What an impure mind you have Mrs. Putman," Tavington's smile did not reach his eyes. "If you wish to cater to their needs in that manner, you may, of course. With your husband gone, you might become lonely. I, myself, would not refuse you."

"You dare!" Cilla, headstrong and fiery, was pushed beyond her limit. "You will not speak to my mother with such disrespect!"

Tavington eyed her coolly, his gaze took her in from head to toe.

"Too much like her cousin," he muttered as he turned sharply and strode from the room.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The day was wearing on. Marion had been absolutely right, Beth's rump was killing her. They were safe now, the Dragoons had not been able to follow through the waterfall once the bridge had been destroyed and nearest crossing was miles away.

Nevertheless, their wild ride had taken them far off course. If their journey had not been interrupted, they would have been at Fresh Water by now. For many hours they had ridden through woods and over pastures, taking small trails rather than the roads in case they encountered British forces.

They had stopped often, to water, feed and rest the horses. It became increasingly harder for the ladies to climb back on their horses after each stop. Their bodies were tired, sore. Exhausted. And they were still another two hours from home at least.

The column wound its way through the woods. Beth did not even bother to lift her head from Doyle's shoulder to glance around and enjoy her surroundings. The beauty of the woods, with the sun shining through the leafy canopy over head held no charm for her.

They slowed again as they entered another clearing and still Beth did not raise her head, though she knew they would be stopping for another rest.

Men were talking and shouting, greeting one another with excited voices, then Colonel Harry Burwell was standing at the stirrup of Beth's horse.

She finally raised her head from Doyle's shoulder to stare down at Harry in shock, unable to credit it.

"Beth?" He was holding his arms out to her, ready to help her down. "Come now, you are safe. Are you hurt?"

Temporarily dumbstruck, Beth simply could not take it in. Her mind was playing tricks with her.

Then, with a shriek she threw herself bodily from the saddle into his arms. He stumbled back with a grunt, almost losing his balance as his fiancé was suddenly wrapped around him, her arms clutching tight as she wept against his chest.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tavington chose Beth's room for himself. His wounds were dressed properly, he had questioned Zeke more closely, taken a bath, eaten a hearty dinner. Now he sat on the edge of Beth's bed, finally ready to read the letter she had left for him.

As expected, when he opened the enveloped, his grandmothers ruby pendant dropped into the palm of his hand. Though he had not checked earlier, he had known it was the pendant that gave the envelope weight. The ruby glinted in the candlelight, mocking him. He could still hear Beth's piercing scream as he was shot before her eyes, still saw the terror on her face.

She loved him and yet she still took herself away from him, willingly. She had betrayed him, then left him - though he had told Clinton a very different story. A slow burning rage smoldered within him as he unfolded the letter and began to read.

_William,_

_We have only known one another for a short time but my love for you is so strong, I can not imagine ever loving another person as much as I do you. _

_If you had proposed to me, as I believe you intended, I would have accepted you in a heart beat. Despite the repercussions. My father loves me, I believe he would have forgiven me eventually. I was prepared to accept you. When my Aunt's argued that you were merely after my inheritance and dowry, I was still willing to accept you._

_It has been bought to my attention that your family is struggling, their finances almost deplete. You have told me some of it yourself, I remember you telling me your father squandered your wealth. You are in need of a wealthy bride to help support your loved ones back home. I argued with my Aunts, I told them I did not care. That with careful investment, we could have helped your family and lived a comfortable life ourselves, such is my love for you. My need to be with you._

_When it became apparent that I would accept you, my family was forced to reveal further truths that they would have preferred to keep to themselves for they knew those truths would cause me pain._

_The first, that you received a five thousand pound inheritance that you yourself squandered in less than a year. I must admit, I was hesitant to marry you when this was revealed to me, for if you have not outgrown your carousing ways, we would be destitute in just a few years. And if by then my father had still not forgiven me, then neither of our families would aid us._

_But that was still not enough to dissuade me, not truly._

_The death knell for me, was learning that you have continued your affair with Miss Linda Stokes._

_Oh my dear Lord, William. Can you imagine the agony, when I heard this? Every night this week I've lain in my bed, unable to sleep for thoughts of you have plagued me. And every night this week, you have held that woman in your arms, in your bed. You have kissed her, touched her, coupled with her._

_Make no mistake, learning of your continued affair with Miss Stokes has hurt me deeply. I would have accepted you, if not for learning this._

_Although the loved one who revealed this truth was loathe to do so, I am glad she did. My path is clear now, no long murky. I will not marry you. For how can I?_

_Honestly William! Would you have continued on with Miss Stokes after we married? Would my mothers money and my dowry support not only your family back home, but your mistress right here? Good Lord, I would have been a laughing stock! Fawning over you while everyone knew you were keeping a mistress! Its disgraceful._

_My husband keeping a mistress would shame me utterly. And it would shame you also!_

_This is not easy for me, and if you think it is, then you are a fool._

_But it must be done._

_You already have a bastard growing within Vera Tisdale. Will Miss Stokes bear you one also?_

_Enough, I have reached my limit. I can take no more and so I will leave Charles Town. And I will not return until the war takes you far away from South Carolina._

_I recall your words - that you would pursue me to the end of my days. The Santee is not so far as that, and you will be out that way in a few weeks. But I must beg you, please, to let me be. Let me find peace._

_If you care for me at all, you will do as I request for you are breaking me, William. You are utterly destroying me._

_I am sorry if this letter causes you the slightest distress. I know now that you do not love me, but I would like to believe you do care for me a little. Or perhaps its just wishful thinking. Either way, I know you will find solace in the arms of another. Miss Stokes, most likely. Or some other. I will not allow myself to be jealous of those women any longer._

_You shame your own name with your conduct, surely you must see that? You sully the entire Tavington family._

_But I do not care, for I will never bear your name, I will not share your shame. Continue spreading your seed and siring bastards. Do what you wish, because I will have no more of you._

_Do not doubt the depths of my feelings for you, William. But nor should you doubt my strength. Leaving you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I will do it. I will move on. It would be far more painful to stay and suffer your continual infidelities._

_You will have found the pendant within the envelope - it is a beautiful piece, I must say. Such a glorious piece should be given to a woman you truly love. I do hope one day you will find her, if you have not already found her with this Linda Stokes._

_Miss Elizabeth Martin_

:::::::::::::::::

A/N - Whitewaters does exist, its an actual place, but I have no idea what it looks like, how large or how small. I have no idea if you can cross beneath it - I doubt it. I got the idea from The Last of the Mohicans.

Also, the real Marion the Fox was never caught. Banastre Tarleton was never able to capture him no matter how hard he tried. I believe he died in 1795, almost fifteen years after the Rev War ended. But I had to make way for the Ghost, so, Marion has died in my story.

Lastly - to all the Tavington fans - I am one of you. I do not want to give too much away, but if you bear with me for the next few chapters, the Beth and Tavington will be reunited.


	30. Chapter 30 - Linda the Mistress

**Chapter 30 - Linda the Mistress**

Someone knocked on the door. Tavington barely noticed.

Though at least a half hour had past since reading's Beth's letter, he had not shifted from his stiff perch at the end of her bed. His elbows on his knees, he sat forward with the letter clasped in both hands, reading it over and over.

He barely noticed his hair hanging in long strands around his hard face. His expression was stone, his entire body rigid, taut, tense.

Initially, when he began reading the letter, a slow burning anger had consumed him. Now, after his mind had had time to digest her words, that anger had turned to blinding hot rage.

Rage, that she doubted the depths of his feelings for her, that she thought him in love with Linda! Fury, that she could make her accusations regarding his families finances and his carousing ways in the form of a letter, rather than confronting him herself. For she was hardly making those accusations from a position of innocence. Many of the points she had made in her letter were true - he could not deny it. But after all Zeke the slave had told him, his betrayals paled into insignificance when compared to hers.

So. He bedded several women while courting her. He had made a wager with his closest friend, to see who could steal her virtue. He had planned to marry her, only after learning of her wealth. Yes, his family were on the brink of ruin. Yes, his behavior had left much to be desired, and was hardly worthy of him as a Gentleman.

What of it?

He quivered with fury - recalling Zeke's information. From the moment the slave had begun to speak, Tavington had held himself still and erect, his face a mask of stone, but inside he writhed with rage bordering bloodlust.

She, and her family, had been conspiring to spirit her from Charles Town since the moment Tavington first met her! Her Uncle was a spy - a _Goddamned_ spy, and Beth had known it! She had held back enemy missives from her brother - the fucking Continental soldier. She had foiled a plot that could have seen a very key figure taken into custody, which would in turn alter the course of the war!

For all her accusations against him, she herself was guilty of treason, sedition, espionage!

Rebellion.

What was he accused of? Sticking his cock in different women? He was hardly the first man to have done so.

No. _Hers_ were the far greater crimes, as they were against King and County. Worst yet, her crimes left Tavington in the _worst_ possible position. His duty was clear - when it came to rebels, or rebel sympathizers. They were taken into custody, or depending on the severity of the crime, they were hung on the spot based on his word, on his authority alone!

He had hung men, and women, whose crimes were far smaller than Beth's. And at far less provocation. Right now, his own Loyalties were being tested and it infuriated him. That she would put him in this position, that she could tell him she was leaving him because of his infidelity - in the form of a fucking letter! - and not mention a single word of _her_ crimes. That she could take herself away from him, out from his protection! Because right now, he was the only person who could protect her!

He had twisted the truth on its head to protect her - lied to the Commander in Chief himself! If it was discovered, at best Tavington would be expelled from the army. At worst, he could face the noose himself!

The lengths he would have to go to to keep _her_ fucking pretty neck out of the noose!

Treason. Tavington now had to commit treason in order to cover Beth's rebellion, in order to save her life. And he detested it, hated that he must take that course of action. It went against everything he believed in.

His thoughts took an ominous turn. Though he detested it, he would make this sacrifice for her. But he would require a price from her, and if she was not willing to pay it...

He drew a ragged breath, unwilling at that moment to think of the alternative, of what he would have to do to her.

Finally coming to himself, coming out of his rage filled trance, he lifted his head to gaze up at Linda. She had slipped into the chamber after knocking and when he didn't greet her, she had come to stand before him.

He noticed her shiver with apprehension and he knew he must look a sight - almost unhinged with rage.

"I sent for you an hour ago," he said in a quiet and dangerous tone.

"I am sorry," Linda said softly, almost wishing she had dared to ignore his summons. "I was busy, and -"

"Silence," he hissed. "I do not care who you were fucking, Linda. When I call for you, you come to me, understood?" He reached up and stroked her face, his gentle caress belied by the threat in his voice.

"Yes." She said warily.

"Good. Take your clothes off, Beth, lay down on the bed."

She quirked an eyebrow with surprise.

"Beth, again?" Despite her fear, her voice took on an angry edge. "I thought we had reached an understanding -"

"Tonight only," Tavington interrupted. "It seems fitting, I am about to have you in her bed, after all."

"Very well," Linda said reluctantly as she undressed. She had wondered whose house this was when that young Arthur Simms had come to escort her to Tavington. She sensed the violence in William now and suspected it would only go badly for her if she refused. "This is her room?"

"Yes. You will not touch her belongings, will not take anything."

"William! I'm not a thief!" Linda said with outrage, confronting him in only her shift.

"You're not undressed her, either," Tavington said coldly. Linda's brief flame extinguished and she sighed, removed her shift and lay down on the bed. "On your stomach."

Linda sighed and turned over, reaching for a pillow. The first time she had bedded him after their agreement, he had taken her to the edge and back, left her weeping. She still bore some of the marks he had inflicted. The following nights had been as intense and wild, but less blood thirsty. Something told her tonight was going to be violent indeed and she wondered what Beth Martin had done to incur his wrath _this_ time. And where was she, if this was her room?

He traced a long red line on her buttocks and Linda shivered.

"I was quite rough with you, wasn't I Beth?" He said lustfully.

"Yes, dear heart," she had learned quickly that first night, to call him by the endearment his lover used. If she was to be Beth again tonight, she would behave as he had taught her that first night. "But you know I liked it."

"Yes, I know." She could hear the smile in his voice, the self satisfaction. His tone took on an edge once more. "Are you ready?"

_No! Christ no! I'm not..._ Linda squeezed her eyes shut and drew a ragged breath.

"I am always ready for you, dear heart," she said when she had her voice under control.

"Then grip the head board, Beth and brace yourself."

A shudder coursed through her at the tone of his voice, and her suspicions were confirmed. This time was going to be bad indeed.

::::

"Christ," Linda whimpered as Tavington lowered his riding crop. "I can't do that again, William."

It had been bad - as terrible as she could imagine. His riding crop had stung her backside and thighs over and over. His teeth had sunk into her shoulder, marking her, making her howl. He pushed her to the edge and beyond, and worse yet, when she screamed 'scarlet' - her safety word - he had taken his damed sorry time in slowing down. When she insisted, through her tears, he growled with fury at having to stop.

"Come here," William pulled her aching body into his arms, his hands stroking her hair and back as she curled around his body, her head resting on his chest as she sobbed. "You did very well, Linda. I am much calmer now, thanks to you." He murmured, trying to soothe her. He had been brutal, wild even. But he was far calmer now, having spent his rage on her willing body and spilling his seed inside her.

"I have an apology make, Linda," he said as he tilted her chin up to kiss her tenderly. "I should not have pushed you, I should have stopped when you asked."

She sighed heavily and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss, accepting his comfort.

"I can't again do it again," she whispered against his lips. "I can take a lot -"

"I know you can, darling," he smiled charmingly.

"And I enjoy it, but... There is not enough gold in the Colonies, William. I can't do it again."

"Very well." He agreed coolly.

Linda suddenly panicked. She sat up beside him. "That's not to say I want to stop being with you -"

"I know, Linda," he pulled her against him again and she relaxed in his embrace. "In fact, I'll be leaving Charles Town in a few weeks -"

"I know," she whimpered with despair and tightened her hold on him.

Tavington smiled, at least he had full control of Linda, even if Beth had escaped his reach. For now.

"Would you like to come with me?"

Linda tilted her head up, startled. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

She was quiet for sometime and William began to wonder if she would refuse him after all.

"What of your Miss Martin, aren't you going to marry her?"

"Yes, eventually," he said, then muttered ominously, "one way or another."

"And what will happen to me then? I'd be leaving my other... Courtiers..."

Tavington snorted, though he did not correct her. Her other men were patrons - customers. Not courtiers.

"Courtiers!" She said firmly. "I have two that I like quite well and they may find other favorites if I leave them. You will desert me as soon as you are married, and what would I do then?"

Tavington was silent for some. He had become fond of Linda and a woman with her special tastes was hard to find. Beth had betrayed him, time and time again. He would marry her, for her wealth and because he did love her, but... "Not if you are my mistress."

Linda froze, unable to believe her ears. "You said... I wouldn't be your lover. You'd just pay me more."

"I changed my mind," he shrugged. She sat up again, not bothering to hide a wince of pain and gazed down at him.

"You love her," she accused.

"And I always will. I will not allow you to believe otherwise. However, I _am_ fond of you Linda. Is that not enough?"

She traced his chest idly, avoiding the bandages across his shoulder. "Of course, I'll come with you, I'll take as much of you as I can get for as long as I can," she ignored his smug smile. "I just fear for the future, that's all. I won't have you all to myself when you're married."

"No, you'll have to share me and as my wife, Beth will always come first. But you'll have something of me that my Beth will never have, Linda."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"

"My trust." He said seriously, his voice grew dangerous again as he traced a finger along her cheek. "Bed who you wish, as long as it doesn't interfere with my own relations with you. But _never_ betray me. Do you understand the difference?"

She stared at him wide eyed. "I think so..."

"Good," he nodded curtly.

A rhythmic _thump, thump, thump_ came from the room next door - Bordon and Harmony. Tavington tossed his head

"Christ, he was wounded worse than I was!" He muttered.

"Harmony is probably on top," Linda chuckled.

"Even still, he almost lost his life today!"

"Well... Harmony is quite in love with her Captain, she is probably feeling quite desperate, knowing she almost lost him today."

"If she keeps this up, she may well kill Bordon herself."

They both heard a long, low moan, and he felt a stirring in his own groin.

"You know, I was shot today, Linda," he remarked.

"I know," she whimpered and wrapped her arms around him.

"I was hoping you might be feeling the same desperation, hmm?" He smiled down at her and she finally took the hint.

"Perhaps a little," she said lustily, shifting above him to straddle his waist. Tavington took hold of his erection as Linda positioned herself, sinking down on him with a heavy sigh. He folded his arms beneath his head and watched her as she moved up and down on his length, her eyes closed and her lips parted with growing pleasure. He had not noticed how dark her hair was before, it was a rich red - but now it was as dark as blood and flowed down to almost cover her breasts.

So completely different than Beth, with her golden locks and brown eyes, but every bit as alluring. Linda was, in her own way, really quite beautiful. Why had not noticed it before? Perhaps because before, she had only been a whore but now he was looking at his mistress, and she changed considerably in his eyes.

He sat up to pull her close, skin to skin and she kissed him passionately, their tongues dueling as they drew closer to climax.

"Ah, yes..." he whispered against her lips as she began to slam down on him, driving him deeper inside her. "Yes... Linda..."

Linda smiled as her climax washed over her, pleased that she was back to being Linda, not Beth.


	31. Chapter 31 - At Home With the Family

**Chapter 31 - At Home With The Family**

Burwell stroked Beth's hair absentmindedly, she lay curled against him, her head on his shoulder, snoring softly.

"She really should be in bed," Charlotte said with disapproval.

"Leave it be, Charlotte."

She turned a startled gaze to Benjamin, her eyebrows climbing her forehead.

Benjamin ignored her, his daughter was finally showing some good sense, would finally marry Colonel Burwell and Benjamin had no intention of sending Beth off to bed for the sake of propriety. If his daughter wished to sleep curled against her betrothed, her father would do nothing to gainsay her. Not when he was in the room chaperoning the two of them, at least.

"What of the journey? I was expecting Marion to be here," he said to Burwell now.

"The militia were attacked while trying to cross at the Falls. Marion is dead, Ben."

"Christ," Benjamin muttered. He had served with Francis Marion over twenty years ago, in the French and Indian Wars. Marion and Martin had both been part of Burwell's unit, along with Trellim, Banksia and several others. Rollins, Billings - who had small plantations not far from Benjamin's.

"It was Tavington," Burwell explained. "He stepped in when Marion as about to finish Captain Bordon off. Tavington defended Bordon, killed Marion."

It was an unmitigated disaster, plain and simple. They discussed the skirmish at length, Captain Frank Doyle detailing the attack itself, for Burwell had not been present.

It was close to midnight when Charlotte finally put her foot down.

"She needs to be in bed," she said decisively, rising from her chair and bending over Beth to gently wake her.

"I will carry her," Burwell said and Charlotte pursed her lips. There was no help for it however, Burwell's mind was set and Benjamin still held his silence. The Colonel strode past Charlotte with Beth in his arms, carrying her out of the parlor door, heading up the steps to the next landing. Charlotte caught up to him and led the way to Beth's room, opening the bedchamber door for him.

:::::

Margaret woke slowly, stirring in her bed and pulling her covers around her with a groan. Light filtered in through the heavy curtains. And she could hear others moving about the house beyond her door. Morning had arrived and it was definitely time to get up. To rise and shine.

She sighed and pushed her covers back reluctantly but then she remembered - Beth was home! With an excited smile, she jumped out of bed and began to dress quickly.

"Susan," she called, standing over her younger sisters bed. "Wake up."

Susan sat up groggily and rubbed her eyes. The young girl still didn't speak - even though she was six years old. Almost seven!

"Beth's home, remember?" Margaret said brightly. The young woman - still a girl really, more than made up for little Susan's silence with her own chatter. Susan smiled and Margaret continued.

"For real, this time. She's staying! Oh, it will be so wonderful to have her living with us again. Well, that is, until she's married. I hope she doesn't leave with Colonel Burwell! Oh, no, I'm being silly now. The banns have to be read and then they'll be engaged for some time before they marry, surely?"

Susan didn't answer her, not that Margaret expected her to. She helped her little sister dress and then began combing the young girls golden hair.

"No, she'll stay with us for a while. She can tell us all about the balls in Charles town. I would love to go to a ball - it would be ever so fine, don't you think? Oh - I wonder if she will speak to father about getting me a new set of stays? The ones I have are so hard and uncomfortable..." She continued to chatter as she worked.

The truth was, at almost fourteen, Margaret had a desperate need for a mother figure in her life. Her own mother had passed away some seven years earlier, she had died bringing Susan into the world. Margaret had no one to talk to, no one to ask about the changes in her body. No one to talk to about all her _feelings_!

Oh, there was Abigale, of course. But she was so much older and Margaret feared Abigale just wouldn't understand. She could have spoken to Abigale's daughter, but even Mila had been denied to her - off playing maid to Beth these past four years!

And so Margaret had been surrounded with nothing but brothers at home. So many brothers! They dominated the house, always so loud and bothersome. Susan and Margaret had been outnumbered! But Beth's return would soon take care of that.

"All done. Shall we go see if Beth's up?" Margaret asked Susan whose smile lit the room. The little girl nodded enthusiastically and Margaret took her by the hand and led her from the room. Beth's chamber was across from the one Margaret shared with Susan, only a short walk away.

After knocking softly, Margaret opened the door quietly and the two sisters stepped into the dark room. The heavy drapes where still closed, the light of dawn shining around the gaps. They made their way to the bed, Margaret reached out and opened a single drape so she did not startle Beth awake with a sudden flood of light.

She needn't have worried, for Beth was awake. Her eyes were red rimmed, her face streaked with tears which she tried to wipe away quickly. Margaret had seen them, however and she stared down at her sister with consternation. She eventually pulled a handkerchief from her pockets and handed it to Beth.

Susan sat on the edge of the large bed, her expression grave.

"Are you alright, Beth?" Margaret asked, some of her excitement fading away. Beth nodded tiredly but Margaret could tell she was just trying to be brave. The older girl sat up in the bed, her golden hair lank and dirty, hanging in long strands down her back.

"You went to bed like this?" Margaret asked, astonished. She grabbed up a comb and sat beside Beth, who turned slightly to allow Margaret room to work on the tangles.

"It was too late to wash it," Beth said in a wooden voice. She sniffed and Margaret wondered if she was still crying.

"Aren't you happy to be home, Beth?" Margaret asked with a quaver in her voice. She was an empathetic girl who did not like to see others suffering. She was also hurt, that Beth was not as excited to see them as Margaret had been to see her.

"I am," Beth turned around to assure her. "I'm so happy to be with you again, and with Susan," she pulled the small girl into her lap. Susan reached up to wipe the tears from Beth's cheeks. "Its just been a difficult time, is all."

"Oh, I understand," Margaret said quickly. "You saw that horrible battle and everything. I would hate to see a battle, it would be a dreadful thing."

"It was," Beth murmured.

She shuddered with horror as memories of the battle came to her unbidden. Of William being shot, of him fighting for his life, the other wounds he had taken before her very eyes. She could still see his face, so clearly in her mind. Twisted with bloodlust, implacable with rage. And then, at the end, he had stared at her calmly across the narrow divide that separated them, his expression had held... Promise.

With another shudder, she held Susan close as Margaret resumed work on her hair. Tears traced her cheeks, a never ending stream. How in the world she was to bear up and put on a brave face for the entire day, she had no idea. _Especially_ in front of Harry and her father.

Of course, she would have to speak with Harry, she realised. They needed to discuss their wedding plans, possibly even invite Reverend Oliver to dine with them that evening. Her Reverend would read the banns - beginning this Sunday. In only a few days time, her engagement to Colonel Harry Burwell would be official.

It would be published in the Bulletins and Colonel William Tavington would learn of it.

Her heart lurched with grief and great, uncontrollable sobs escaped her. She began to cry in earnest.

Margaret was confused, uncertain what had upset Beth so thoroughly. All she could do was wrap her arms around her older sister from behind, offering some small comfort. The three sisters sat on the bed for some time as Beth cried, until Mila came in with a servant, both of them carrying large steaming bowls of water.

"I'm alright now," Beth said listlessly. Her voice was weak even to her ears but try as she might, she could not make it stronger. "Truly."

"Alright..." Margaret said uncertainly and drew away. Beth placed Susan on the bed and rose to wash herself. Mila worked on washing Beth's hair in one of the basins she had bought in.

"Margaret, why don't you and Susan go and help Mama?" Mila suggested. "Beth'll be down soon but Mama needs as much help as she can get, with the house so full of soldiers."

Margaret nodded and left with Susan and the servant, leaving Mila and Beth alone.

"It hurts so much," Beth confided, her already burning eyes stinging with fresh tears.

"I know," Mila said. "I miss Zeke."

The two women embraced, bought even closer with their shared misery.

"We are both so wretched," Beth tried to laugh.

"That we are," Mila agreed. She drew away and went into the closet to choose Beth's dresses and help her change out of her night dress. Once Beth's hair was combed and bound under a cap, Mila began to walk to the door.

"Will you be alright? Mama really does need me downstairs."

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be down shortly."

Sensing that Beth needed to gather herself before facing the family - and Colonel Burwell - Mila smiled sadly and withdrew.

As soon as she was gone, Beth sat at her desk tiredly, staring into space. Her diary was on the table, within reach. During the night, when she had been unable to sleep she had scribbled of her despair in its pages by candlelight.

Opening the small leather-bound book now, she stared down at the portrait she had drawn of William. The knowledge that his face would fade from her memory eventually had been so overwhelming, had caused her such despair, that she had spent half the night painstakingly rendering his handsome features with ink until she was satisfied with the likeness.

As she gazed at his face now, her breath caught and her stomach gave a small lurch. The portrait seemed so real she could almost see the pale blue in his eyes, though she had used black ink. She stared at the image of William's face for some time, her eyes lingering on his small smile until it became too painful for her to bear. She closed the diary with a small sigh.

Beyond her chamber she could hear her brother's yelling to one another, Thomas bellowing that breakfast was ready.

With a heavy sigh, she wiped her tears and tried to compose herself. It was time to assume that brave face and join the rest of the family.

::::::::

As the morning progressed, Beth's family began to comment to one another about how withdrawn she seemed. How out of countenance. Try as she might, she was unable to allay their concerns. At breakfast she was seated at the long dining table with Harry on one side of her, Margaret on the other. Gabriel and Thomas were across from her, her other brothers further along the table chatting excitedly to Harry's Officers. In contrast, Beth barely spoke, unless addressed directly. She hardly touched her food, she didn't think she could stomach a bite.

Even Burwell became increasingly concerned, but so far his duties had demanded his attention and he had not been able to speak with her alone. Finally, close to lunch time, Beth sought him out and suggested they go for a walk to the stream. That in itself was reassuring to Burwell, that Beth had instigated their much needed private time.

"I asked Papa to send for Reverend Oliver, hopefully he will dine with us this evening," Beth said softly as they walked toward her favorite place on the plantation. A small grove of trees beside the stream which would provide an escape from the days heat. "We will discuss the banns - the first one will be announced this Sunday."

"So soon?" Burwell replied, startled. He gazed down at Beth who had her arm looped through his as they walked.

"Yes, I thought it would be for the best," she frowned up at him. "Don't you agree?"

"I do," he nodded quickly. "Of course I do. Good... Very good," he said gruffly.

They reached the trees and Burwell spread out the blanket he had been carrying. The two sat side by side, reclined against a toppled tree trunk, facing the stream.

"Hmm, its so peaceful here. Its always been my favourite place on the entire plantation," she told him wistfully with a small smile. "I didn't realise how much I missed it!"

He noticed how sad the smile seemed. Even her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. She had been half dazed for the entire morning, as if she was merely going through the motions.

Earlier that morning he'd had a brief moment to voice his concern for her, but she had assured him she was merely tired and recovering from recent events. Now he feared it was much more than that. Many unpleasant reports had come to him over the past week, reports regarding her and Lieutenant Colonel Tavington.

Her behavior now confirmed those reports. Beth was not tired and recovering from recent events, she was a heart broken young woman in the depths of despair! At more than twice her age, he could see it writ plainly across her face.

Burwell was nothing if not forthright and if ever a time had come to broach his concerns, it was now.

"Beth, there is something I wish to discuss with you," he said, his tone oddly formal. She drew her gaze from the stream and eyed him warily. Yes, he decided, she knew what was coming. "Dear heart, you must know that Charles Town is a small place. There are still many Patriots living there and word spreads..."

He paused. Beth's face had paled and she was gazing at him almost fearfully. Harry frowned, he had never known her to be fearful before! He had compared her bravery to that of a lioness many a time! Especially after her efforts to protect him at great risk to herself.

He continued gently.

"I've heard reports of you and Lieutenant Colonel Tavington."

Beth swallowed and lowered her eyes.

"Is it true, Beth?" He asked outright. "Was he courting you? My reports say that he had fallen in love with you."

"Yes, he was courting me," Beth replied in a small voice. "But no, I do not believe he was in love with me."

The sadness in her voice alarmed him. The reports had said that Beth had fallen in love with the enemy Officer but Burwell had not believed it. Not when she had risked herself to warn him, Burwell, of the trap Tavington had set to capture him. But now, gazing at her face, he was forced to confront the truth.

"And why is that?" He asked her. He found he couldn't say the words just yet. Couldn't ask if she was in love with Tavington. Not when he knew the answer could possibly tear his own heart from his chest.

"He was after my dowry and my inheritance," she whispered.

"How do you know this?"

"I'm not a fool," Beth said quietly. "I might have needed some coaxing to face the truth, but it was glaringly obvious in the end. He initially courted me because he desired me to be his mistress but as soon as he discovered my wealth - my _worth_ - he began to court me for marriage. His own family is destitute, you know."

"I did know," Burwell murmured, watching her face carefully all the while. Listening to her tone, the slight catch in her voice. "Did he propose to you?"

"No," Beth admitted. "But I know he was going to. He did tell me he loved me, but I don't believe him now."

Burwell was silent a moment as he struggled with her words. That Tavington had declared his love for her and would have proposed marriage set his blood to boiling. If the enemy Officer had been standing before him, Burwell would have throttled the bastard!

"You had need of coaxing to face the truth..." he repeated softly and she blushed with shame. "Beth, I must ask you this - and you must be honest with me. Are _you_ in love with Tavington?"

Beth's eyes welled with tears and she drew her knees up to her chest, huddling in on herself.

Christ. She _was_ in love with Tavington!

"I see..." He murmured as he studied her.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Beth gasped. "I don't mean to be. I don't _want_ to be! But it won't go away!"

Burwell however, was furious. Sudden rage and jealousy seized hold of him, unbidden and uncontrolled.

"For two years I courted you, Beth," he accused in a harsh voice. "_Two. Years. _And you fall in love with _him_ in one week?"

"I don't know what to say..." Her voice caught and she hung her head. Tears stung her eyes, hot and searing. "I can't help how I feel. I do care for you, Harry. I want to marry you."

"And I want to marry you!" He snapped. "Because I am in _love_ with you, for Christ's sake! Not because your father is my friend and former Captain. Not because of your fortune - I have more than enough wealth not to concern myself with such. It is because I love you, and now you tell me you have fallen in love with another man? With Colonel _bloody_ Tavington!"

Beth was quiet, gnawing at her bottom lip nervously.

"I do care for you, Harry," she repeated finally.

"I know you care for me, Beth," he sighed heavily, still quite vexed. He was astute enough to sense her nerves, her fear that he would free her from their engagement. He wondered if he should do exactly that - end this farce now before it had a chance to ruin them both. How could he marry a woman who was not only in love with another man, but a man who was his blood enemy?

"Is this it then?" She asked in a quavering voice, her eyes bright with tears. "Will you end our engagement?"

"Why do you want to marry me, Beth?" Try as he might, he could not keep soften his harsh tone. "You are in love with another man - a man who I will kill if I ever get the opportunity!"

"He would kill you in a heart beat as well," she sighed heavily. "Lord, what a tangle."

They fell silent, Burwell bristling with rage and Beth trying to find the right words to explain. Why _did_ she want to marry him? He was right, she was not in love with him, she was heart broken over another man! Why then?

"Because you are a good man, Harry," she said finally, earnestly. "Because I do have to marry someday. I will not spend the rest of my life pining over an unrequited love. I can imagine myself married to _you_, I can imagine myself..." She coughed with embarrassment and his eyes widened with incredulity. He understood her meaning, she could imagine herself in bed with him. "That time you kissed me, when you had to leave Charles Town?"

He nodded, still wide eyed, his anger thawing.

"It made my knees weak," she admitted with a tentative smile.

"Did it now?" He murmured and she nodded.

"I missed you when you left. I care for you, Harry. I respect you." She reached up to stroke his cheek and he leaned into her touch. "Besides, Aunt Mage says that if there was ever a man in the Colonies who could help me forget... Well, it would be you..."

"She said that, did she?" He murmured. Just then he discovered how ready and willing he was to be convinced by her. He was in love with her and could not bear to live without her.

Besides, could he really blame her? She was so _young_. And she was hardly the first woman to fall prey to the wrong man's charms. He still had concerns, however.

"Beth, you alluded to..." He coughed with embarrassment now, but he had to know. He plowed on. "You... We will bed each other, Beth. You realise that?"

"Of course I do," she whispered. "I told you, I can imagine... I think it will be a wonderful thing." She meant it too. Burwell was a well set up man, handsome and athletic. Older than William, but desirable all the same. After experiencing the pleasures Tavington had awoken in her, she could well imagine feeling them with Burwell also.

He was quiet for a long time as he considered her carefully.

"I can not like that you have fallen in love with another man," he said finally, his irritation returning. "Especially Colonel Tavington. I do want to marry you, but I need to know one thing, Beth, and then we'll never speak of it again -"

"I didn't bed him," Beth said tiredly. "I swear, Harry. I didn't."

Burwell blew out an explosive breath of relief. He nodded and kissed her forehead, then pulled her into his arms.

"It hurts so much," Beth whispered against his chest.

"Heartbreak always does," Burwell tightened his arms around her. "I am not pleased about this Beth, not by far. Lord, you are to be _my_ wife. Will you be thinking of him while we are -"

"No!" Beth's voice rose. "Never! You have been married before, will you be thinking of your wife?"

"Of course not, it is different though, isn't it? She died a long, long time ago, and Tavington is still very much alive and well."

"I knew you would be angry, I didn't want to tell you."

"I am feeling so many things right now, Beth. Anger. Jealousy. _Resentment,_ that he could win your affections so quickly!" He drew a sharp breath and closed his eyes. Beth waited him out in silence. "Pleasure that you do desire me. That you desire this marriage."

"I do desire it, Harry," she lifted her head to meet his gaze.

"Good, so do I. As hard as it was to hear, I am glad you told me. We should be honest with each other," he said earnestly. "Of course we will still marry - I just needed a moment to take it all in_."_

Beth sighed with relief and lowered her head to his chest again. They held each other in a tight embrace and he rubbed her back gently, comfortingly.

"It is over and done with," she said mournfully. "I'll never see him again. But dear Lord, when will it stop hurting?"

Burwell sighed and held his fiancé as she wept her heartache over another man. He loved her dearly, but by Christ, it was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

Finally Beth began to calm.

"You're a good man," she murmured into his chest. "To comfort me now... You're going to be the best of husbands."

"Time will tell," Burwell said gravely. "But I will try to be."

"Me too," she promised. "I'll try to be a good wife."

He gave her a squeeze and the two fell into a companionable silence, Beth in Burwell's arms, listening to the tinkling stream and the sound of the wind blowing gently through the trees above them.

For the first time since in days, Beth began to feel a sense of security and warmth, with Burwell's strong arms cradling her. She closed her eyes and Tavington's face came to her unbidden. She sighed heavily and snuggled closer to Burwell, seeking more comfort.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_A/N - A note on the children's ages - I have made them all a little older than they were in the movie. My reasoning is that the meeting to discuss South Carolina's aid in the war took place in 1776. In the movie, Susan was already two years old at least. Charles Town fell in 1780, so she would be six years old. The movie seems to have condensed that time frame to two years, but it suits me to have the children older... Hence, Margaret is almost fourteen. Susan is six. William would be nine, I think. Samuel is almost thirteen, Nathan is fifteen and Thomas sixteen. Boy, Elizabeth Martin was busy - she and Benjamin bred like rabbits!_


	32. Chapter 32 - Beth's Belongings

**Chapter 32 - Beth's belongings**

Tavington sneered with pleasure, hot and fierce. He lay on his back, his lip curled, straining against the lengths of silk ribbon Linda had tied around his wrists, binding him to the headboard of Beth's bed. He strongly suspected Linda's desire to bind him stemmed less from the pleasure it gave her, and more to save her backside from being striped raw with his riding crop.

"Agh!" he groaned and again pulled at his bindings. His eyes were crazed as he watched her slide up and down his length. She was so moist - _dripping_ even. His heavy erection thrust into her easily. It felt so good - damned good.

With his wrists safely bound, she was safe from the pain she knew he wished to inflict. She thought to bring him to a quick release, hoping to ease his rage and tension before allowing him access to her flesh.

"Oh, William," she murmured as he lifted his hips from the bed and punched up into her heat. "Ah, God!"

"Faster," he commanded harshly, urgently. "Agh - yes... Mnn!" He lifted his head off the pillow to watch her, her head dropped back, her red hair spilling over her firm breasts. Her expression was pure rapture as she rode him, her lips parted, her eyes bright with desire and lust. Christ, how he wanted to suckle her nipples, but she was riding him too high and with his hands bound he could not lift himself up to reach her. They were tantalizingly out of reach.

Planting both feet into the mattress, he began to buck beneath her, frantic now for release.

"Linda, Christ... Yes... Agh!"

His words sung in her ears. She loved that he desired her, loved that she could calm his rages. Loved that it was her that he turned to during those times of need. Loved that with Beth gone, she had no rival for his attentions.

"She can't give you this," she murmured now. There was not need to say the other woman's name, Tavington knew it was Beth Linda spoke of. "Can she, William? Not like this. Oh, dear Christ," she moaned.

Careful of his bandages, she braced herself with her palms against his chest and thrust down on his length, until he filled her to her roof. He continued to buck and groan but she stopped bucking, rotating her hips in small circles instead.

"Agh!" Tavington arched his back then collapsed against the bed again, his legs moving restlessly beneath the blankets. He ignored her words, focusing his thoughts on Beth herself. Of her long golden hair that touched the top of her backside when it was loose. Of her dark brown eyes, her soft smooth skin. Her beautiful face which lit up when she saw him, back in happier days. The feel of her lips against his, her breasts beneath his hands. "So close, so close!" He panted.

"I know," Linda smiled and purred, her own pleasure mounting, she wondered who would reach climax first. Once he came, he would be safe to unbind. For now however, she watched with her lips caught between her teeth as he struggled to free himself. She surged above him once more. Leaning over to kiss him, she lifted her buttocks high and slammed down hard. Her tongue circled his, both panting into each others mouths as they met one another's thrusts.

He drew back to nip her lips, she didn't mind. She liked it. She did the same to him and relished in his growl of pain and enjoyment. Then her climax took her over and she cried out, burying her face in the nook of his neck. She clutched his strong arms, holding on tight as the waves of pleasure crashed through her.

"Beth!" He muttered, "Agh, Beth!"

For Linda, it was like being slapped across the face with a cold fish. He didn't seem to notice her stiffen above him, barely seemed to notice he had said the other woman's name at all.

"Agh!" He was bucking wildly, frantic now that she had stopped moving on his length. "Don't stop, move damn you! Linda!"

She lifted herself from his chest and briefly considered getting off him, not allowing him to climax. But that would only enrage him further and he was already in a sour mood. It would only mean pain for her later - she could not keep him bound forever. And so she began to thrust again and he grunted his appreciation. His eyes squeezed shut and he groaned a long, fulfilled groan. She felt his cock jerk and twitch deep inside her, his breath caught and his entire body shuddered, then he stilled.

Only then did she climb off of him and in the stormy silence of one greatly offended, she began to unbind his wrists.

Tavington was too busy catching his breath and calming after his explosive climax to notice. She coiled the lengths of thick ribbon efficiently and perched on the edge of the bed to place them in a side drawer. And there she stayed, perched on the edge of the bed with her back to him, wondering if being his mistress was worth the heart ache. For him to lose himself so utterly in a fantasy of _her_, of the woman who had left him, was too much for Linda to bear.

It was one thing that he had bound her, had insisted on calling her Beth. Beating her with his riding crop, dolling out the punishment meant for the other woman. Beth had been far from his grasp and Linda had taken the brunt of the punishment, but with it had come pleasure as well. Wild, frenzied and so very hot. And after it all, he had held her, kissed her, comforted her.

But this was not the same. This time he had been envisioning another woman, a woman he loved, while Linda worked hard to pleasure him, to appease him, to calm him as a mistress aught.

Was it worth it? She asked herself again as he rose from the bed behind her, oblivious to her affliction, to the wound he had caused her with that one little gasp.

_Beth_...

She would always be there, between them... But Linda had told him she would take what she could of him while she could. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as he cleaned himself with a square of linen. She loved him - every part of him. Her eyes lingered, straying over his body - his hard buttocks, his shapely legs. His strong arms and muscled chest. Still covered with bandages, he still moved stiffly as though his wounds pained him. They had only been inflicted a day or so ago, so Linda was not surprised he was still in pain.

Tavington's long strands framed his face, dropped past his shoulders. She loved that too - loved winding her fingers through that dark wealth. His face was darkening again, as he stared at the small case on Beth's table. Linda could not forget that this was _the other woman's_ room, it even seemed to smell of the other woman - the way she imagined Beth would smell. She had never met Beth, had never laid her eyes on her. She was reported to be a great beauty.

Linda would never be called a great beauty though she knew she was pretty. Tavington's affection seemed to be growing for her, but with a sharp pang in her stomach, she accepted he would never love her.

Take what she could of him, she decided with a sigh.

But not now. Not with his irritation returning so soon after climaxing. She wondered as she dressed, just how long it would be until he began to calm enough to have relations without the need for violence. She liked a little rough play, especially with William. But she ached all over and just wanted him to take it back down to a more reasonable level...

And she wanted him to think of _her_, not of Beth. Linda scoffed quietly as she pulled her stockings up her legs under her skirts. That would be a fine thing, but would only happen in her fantasies.

She pulled her cape around her shoulders and still Tavington had not moved, still he stood stiffly, staring at the offending case. She wondered what it contained but she did not dare ask. And she would not look, either. Not ever.

"William?" She asked gently as she made her way around the bed toward him. She placed her hand on his bare back and still he did not turn to her. "William?" She tried again.

He turned finally and she saw only storm and darkness in his eyes. She sighed heavily.

"I can pleasure you with my mouth, darling," she offered. "That would surely calm you."

"It certainly would," Tavington replied, he sat in the seat at Beth's desk. Linda knelt before him and began work immediately, her lips moving along his semi hard length lovingly, her tongue circling his tip. He had only just climaxed and so it took some time, but eventually his cock was rock again. His fingers twined through her red hair, he urged her head down and she took his erection into her mouth. Tavington began to grunt and groan, his hips pushed up, forcing his length deeper. Linda was used to him, knew what he liked, she began to suckle lightly, then harder as he threw his head back and grunted and gasped. His erection twitched inside her mouth, it pulsed with its own heartbeat.

Her fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft, her free hand massaged his pouch lightly. Sensing he was close to his release, Linda began sucking hard, her head bobbed up and down as fast as she could go, then Tavington groaned a low, long groan, his cock pulsed again and suddenly she could taste his seed, salty and thick in her mouth.

He held her down on him while he calmed, then finally released her and rested his arms on the sides of the chair. Linda wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and climbed into his lap to rest her head on his hard chest. He kept still, did not embrace her, much to her disappointment. She had hoped his arms would wrap around her, but he kept them stubbornly still, resting on the arms of the chair. She could feel him tensing again, he was dwelling on Beth and the contents of that damned case - she just knew it.

With a great sigh, Linda pulled away from him. She did not ask when he would summon her again, in his current mood she thought it best simply to leave, as quietly and quickly as possible. There was a small mirror hanging from the wall, Linda gazed into it to fix her hair, to shove it up beneath her cap. When she turned back, Tavington still sat where she had left him, breathing heavily and staring blindly at nothing, heedless of his nudity.

She averted her gaze and walked quickly to the door. She hoped he would rouse enough to stop her, to call her back to him, so she could go to sleep in his arms but it was not to be. With a heavy sigh of disappointment, she slid out into the corridor.

:::::::::

The door clicking shut did rouse him, but Tavington made no move to go after her. Working his tensions and fury out on Linda had only worked while he was in the throes of passion. Now that he was spent - with no hope of gaining another erection at least until morning, he wanted nothing more than to be alone. It was just as well she was gone, he was in a dark mood indeed and he would only hurt her. Of course, she enjoyed it, enjoyed the titillations of pain during sex but he took her beyond what was pleasurable to her.

He tightened his lips and turned the chair around until he was facing Beth's desk and the small case. With a quick flick, he opened the lid and began to rifle through the letters inside again. Not that there was much point - it was a useless exercise really. Gabriel Martin's letters were gone, as were the letters Beth's father had sent her. That was a curious thing in and of itself - why she had felt the need to get rid of Benjamin Martin's letters. What could the Patriot have written to this daughter, that Beth would feel the need to destroy them?

But that was not what was troubling him, however. Of course she would get rid of Gabriel Martin's letters. Corporal Martin. She would have been a fool to have kept them - and Tavington knew that Beth was no fool.

No, it was the letters she had kept - letters from Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton. Who, it seemed, had written to Beth three times since he left for New York. Three times! In the space of a couple weeks! And by the tone of his letters - she had replied!

Tavington had received letters from Banastre also, and never once had Banastre mentioned that he was corresponding with Beth! Beth had not mentioned it either. Deception piled on deception.

With a scowl, he reached into the case and opened one of Banastre's letters.

_Dearest Beth, _he wrote.

Dearest. Tavington snarled with fury.

_I hope by the time this letter reaches you, you will have warmed to me and forgiven my part in that ill conceived wager. My feelings for you remain unchanged, I am as I declared myself - blindly in love with you. Though my duty occupies much of my time, I find myself thinking of you constantly. That one kiss we shared makes my lips burn, even now._

Tavington he could read no further. The paper crumpled in fist. Not that he needed to keep reading, he knew the contents by heart now. The confirmation that Banastre had kissed her, that he had dared!

He rose abruptly and pushed away from the desk, the chair skidding loudly across the floor. That was what had Tavington so incensed now. Not that Martin's letters were missing, but the discovery that Banastre was writing to Beth, courting her through correspondence. And she had let him, she had written him back, encouraged him! Allowed him to kiss her!

Usually Tavington would shrug Banastre's feelings off, take them with a grain of salt. The man was falling in love with a new woman every other week!

But amongst Beth's belongings, in a small box which contained her jewelry, Tavington had found a heavy bracelet made up of silver links, attached to a slim flat plate. The plate bore the inscription '_Cornet Tarleton'_. It had been a gift sent from England from Banastre's extremely indulgent and loving mother. It was one of Banastre's most cherished possessions, for it represented his humble beginnings in the British Army.

And he had sent it to Beth. Which was how Tavington knew for certain that his friend, his oldest and closest companion, was not merely infatuated with Beth, but in love with her.

Opening the drapes wide, Tavington gazed out the window to the dark street below. A few lanterns still flickered, though it was close to midnight. He cracked the window open, letting a cool breeze into the room. Of course with the breeze came mosquitoes and other biting insects. Damned South Carolina and it's unwanted wildlife. He quickly blew out the candles, plunging the room to darkness to prevent the annoying insects from being attracted. Laying down on the bed, he closed his eyes and let the breeze blow over him.

Beth's bed... He had laid with her on this very bed, kissing her for almost two hours. The memory washed over him and he wished now that he had taken it further than kissing. He had done so a few days later, of course - at the ball. He had introduced her to pleasures beyond her imaginings. But after reading that Banastre had kissed her - and knowing that Burwell had as well - made him wish he had not been so solicitous of her virtue. He regretted not claiming her the way every man wished to claim the woman he loved - with the taking of her maidenhead.

He sighed heavily.

Soon.

It was not done between them - not yet, not by a long shot. Tavington doubted it would _ever_ be done between them.


	33. Chapter 33 - Banastres Return to the Fo

**Chapter 33 - Banastre's Return to the Fold**

Once he set out from New York, Tarleton and his Raiders made good time reaching Winnsboro. It would have taken far longer if he had had to traverse the distance with his entire Legion in tow. However, when he and his Dragoon unit were sent to New York a few weeks back, the rest of his Legion had been sent on to Winnsboro for Cornwallis' use.

So it was, after two days of hard riding, Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton finally led his weary Dragoons into Winnsboro in South Carolina.

The jingle of tack, the snorting of the horses, the thunder of their hooves. Even the smells - all of it was pleasant to Banastre. Riding was his favorite pastime. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to finally being out of the saddle. It could not be denied that the young aristocrat enjoyed his luxuries.

Not that Winnsboro would offer much of those - the small town was not as large as the bustling Charles Town.

"I've been in the Colonies too long," he snorted aloud. "_Charles Town_ is hardly as large and bustling as London!"

Major George Hanger rode at Banastre's side. Having heard the Colonel's words, he laughed out loud, agreeing heartily.

"At least we'll have a few nights in a comfortable plantation house," Hanger said loudly to be heard over the drum of the horses hooves.

"Yes, enjoy it while you can!"

"I intend to, Ban, I intend to," Hanger said wistfully. The Major was well known for his indefatigable exploits with women - it was said he was fast catching up to Banastre himself.

Banastre laughed. He intended to enjoy himself as well. The two had waged a different type of war on the Americas, conquering many Colonial women over the past four years. William Tavington had enjoyed the pastime also, it was a far more pleasurable way wage a war.

The Raiders and the rest of Tarleton's Legion would only be in Winnsboro for a handful of days. Cornwallis was eager to begin his drive into North Carolina. Tarleton's Raiders would be dispatched as soon as they were rested and resupplied. Banastre had the feeling that with Francis Marion's demise, Cornwallis was not expecting much opposition. The Back Country would be easily subdued, Cornwallis pinioned in his latest missive. The rebels had lost heart and many of them were slinking home with their tails between their legs. Gates himself had pushed into North Carolina and much of his forces were scattered out to the far edges of South Carolina, if reports could be believed.

Eventually the Raiders came upon the first picket lines with Redcoats standing sentry. After a brief discussion Banastre was allowed through. First on the agenda, finding where he and his men were to be lodged. That was easily accomplished, he was approached by Lieutenant Quartermaster Lerwick and was informed that his Legion were billeted at The Gables Plantation, owned by a Loyalist family. Banastre and his Officers would be quartered in the large manor house and there was already a sea of pitched tents, ready and waiting for his Raiders. After receiving directions to the property, Banastre rode off to see his men settled in.

He was pleased to see his baggage had arrived. Not only had he been forced to ride out of Charles Town without his infantry unit, he had also been forced to leave his belongings behind due to his need to travel lightly. He had, of course, requested his baggage be sent on to him but this request had been denied. Cornwallis had had no intention of allowing Clinton to keep Tarleton in New York for long.

After being escorted through the manor house to view his room for his approval, Banastre and Hanger enjoyed a quick but late lunch. They then set out at once to the Fort itself, where Cornwallis and his aides de camp resided. Fort Carolina, in Winnsboro proper. It was a short ride, thankfully, barely a quarter of an hour. The two Officers approached the large heavy gates and were admitted immediately.

Banastre had never set foot in the mansion that Cornwallis had appropriated from a rebel sympathizer, he had to rely on a guide to lead them to Cornwallis' wing. As he walked beside his guide, he took note of the many twists and turns so he would not have need for an escort in future. The men walked quickly and in short order Banastre and Hanger were being admitted into Cornwallis' presence.

Earl Cornwallis, Lord General Charles Cornwallis, second in charge of the war effort in the Colonies. Though he was only forty-two years, the Earl was rapidly beginning to signs of aging. The pressures of his Office and his wife's recent death weighed heavily upon him. Still, despite his grief, he had a welcoming smile for young Banastre Tarleton, his protege.

"Ah, Lieutenant Colonel," he greeted warmly, striding forward to clasp the younger man's shoulder with a strong hand. A very fatherly gesture. "It warms me to have you back."

"It's good to be back, my Lord," Banastre replied. Of course, Banastre had never been to Winnsboro or to the Fort. They were speaking of Banastre's being back within Cornwallis' fold - not of the place itself.

The Officers were greeted by Cornwallis' many Aide de Camps, his subordinate Generals and Brigadier General O'Hara, before being seated around a large oak council table. The council began without further preamble and Cornwallis began outlining his intentions for South Carolina.

"First of all," he began in a grave voice. "I have had many reports of rebels leaving the militia, now that the Fox is dead. They are leaderless, divided and are slinking to their farmsteads in their droves. I will soon release a declaration to those men, that an amnesty will be established. Their involvement with Marion's militia unit will be forgiven, they will receive formal pardons for their momentary lapse in judgement if they agree to join our forces and fight for their rightful King."

Many of the men nodded and murmured with approval, Banastre also.

"Lieutenant Colonel," Cornwallis addressed Banastre now. "My plans for you are simple. You are to take your Legion and begin traveling the length and breadth of South Carolina, from Winnsboro all the way to the Santee River, recruiting to the Loyalist militia as you go."

Banastre nodded, he had expected as much. "Very good, Sir. I have also considered the possibility of posting announcements - a call to arms - in South Carolina's broadsheets."

"Very good," Cornwallis' tone rang with approval. "Yes, that would be a fine idea. Do not detail where you will be and when, however. I do not want extremist Patriots to slip through your fingers because they already know you are on your way. Those who are most Loyal to our cause will come to us. Others you will gather up along the way. Any slaves who wish to join are to be freed."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Which brings me to your primary purpose, young Banastre," Cornwallis continued gravely. "I desire for those rebels who served with Marion - who will not accept pardon and take up arms with us - to be punished severely. Examples must be made. I desire for other Colonials to be deterred, to prevent them joining if another takes Marion's place and starts to re-form the rebel militia. Furthermore, I want those Colonials to understand that so much as _assisting_ rebels would be foolhardy in the extreme."

Banastre nodded, the two men understood one another perfectly. It would be the young Officers mission not only to recruit to the Loyalist militia but to create so much terror in the back country, that other Colonials would be too terrified to help - much less join - another _Patriot_ militia.

"Now, I believe that Clinton has the same objective and will soon be dispatching Lieutenant Colonel Tavington to meet that end," Cornwallis continued. "Tavington's starting point will be Charles Town and he will be recruiting from the Town, up through Orangeburg to Columbia. As Clinton is retiring to New York," Cornwallis' lip twisted with distaste - unable to hide his disgust that the Commander in Chief was putting his own self needs before that of the war. Clinton detested Charles Town - it was far too small and held not enough amusements for him and he had decided to leave for the much more entertaining New York, where he would continue to direct the war. Cornwallis continued in a flat and disapproving tone, "Tavington will be placed under my direct command. He will eventually join me in Winnsboro."

_And won't William love that? _Banastre almost laughed.

William had become Clinton's protege as much as Banastre had become Cornwallis'. And as Cornwallis and Clinton were so often at odds, Tavington would more than likely bear the brunt of Cornwallis' dislike. He, William, would not enjoy as much indulgence as he currently received from Clinton. Then again, Banastre thought as he studied Cornwallis, the Lord General took his duty far more seriously. Perhaps once Cornwallis had Tavington in his fold, Cornwallis would treat more fairly with the Commander of the Green Dragoons. Banastre hoped that was the case. War was a difficult enough affair at the best of times, without suffering the dislike of ones superior.

"You, Banastre," Cornwallis continued. "You will start from Winnsboro and work your way down through Camden to Kingstree, Possibly all the way to Georgetown though I have not yet decided. I do not want you to be further than two days hard ride from me at any given time, in case I have need of you. You are to remain in constant communiqué, and I will endeavor to provide the same. Tavington will be under the same orders - to provide as much intercourse as possible. I want the two of you to remain within two days ride from one another also - this should be fairly easily accomplished with the routes I have chosen for you both. Communication is paramount to winning this war, without it we are lost. I am blind without you both. The two of you will be my right and left hands."

Banastre was pleased that his opinion turned out to be correct, Cornwallis would put aside his dislike for Clinton and would accept Tavington into his fold with no ill feelings. Which was only fair, it was hardly William's fault that Clinton had taken him under his wing - any more than it was Banastre's that Cornwallis has taken a shining to him!

The meeting continued for some time until Cornwallis eventually declared it adjourned.

"Banastre, a word if you please," Cornwallis called as the Officers rose, ready to leave.

Curious, Banastre bid farewell to Hanger and approached the Lord General. Cornwallis waited until the last Aide departed and he was alone with Tarleton before speaking.

"Lieutenant Colonel," he began in an aggrieved but formal tone. "It has come to my attention that you applied to the War Office. That you requested to be raised from Major to Lieutenant Colonel in an official capacity," Before Tarleton could inject a word, Cornwallis continued in the same hurt tone. "I confess myself distressed, Banastre. I had thought you would inform me personally of such a maneuver, you must understand that I take great pleasure in your career and your being raised to Lieutenant Colonel officially is an event that would I find myself much interested."

"My Lord," Banastre replied with equal formality. "You intelligence is quite correct, I did indeed send such an application. It was not my intent to circumvent you in any way, nor would I offend you by purposefully excluding you. Colonel Tavington and I both applied at the same time, My Lord and we both agreed to keep it to ourselves, in case of disappointment."

"Ah, I see," Cornwallis drew a heavy, put upon sigh. "I quite understand. I am, unfortunately, to be the bearer of unwanted tidings it seems."

Banastre stiffened and his stomach gave a small lurch of apprehension.

"My Lord?" He asked tensely. "Have you news?"

"Indeed I do," Cornwallis advised reluctantly. "It distresses me to inform you that your application has been denied."

Banastre stared at Cornwallis in frank shock. "I felt certain... After all my efforts, I have distinguished myself so well!" His voice grew heated as shock turned to fury and frustration. Cornwallis let the young man rave.

"I have worked harder than most others, and am a very capable Lieutenant Colonel in my own right - why _shouldn't_ it be made official? If I was to retire this very moment, it would be as Major Tarleton and all my accomplishments will be for naught! How could this be denied me?"

"I am certain His Majesty King George has his reasons," Cornwallis said in mild rebuke and Banastre snapped his mouth shut. "Banastre, it may please you to learn that I myself intend to send a petition to the King on your behalf, for your raising to be formalized."

"You will?" Banastre asked, startled.

"Yes, for I agree with you. You have distinguished yourself to my satisfaction, you continue to exceed my every expectation. Without you, I would be lost - you have shown rare leadership skills and a true talent for the military. I will intercede on your behalf. But these things sometimes take time. You will need to be patient, my boy."

"I will," Banastre smiled, some of the edge dulled from his anger. "And I thank you, my Lord - you do me great honor."

"Yes, well, you deserve it," Cornwallis replied genuinely. He held a true affection for the young man.

Many of the other Officers were envious of Banastre. That jealousy stemmed from Cornwallis' high regard for the young soldier and from his willingness to promote Tarleton to higher ranks above longer serving soldiers. He had not exaggerated, however. Banastre had shown a true talent and was a rare military genius the like of which Cornwallis had only encountered a few times in his life time.

And if that was not extraordinary enough, Lieutenant Colonel Tavington had exhibited the same qualities, the same genius. Cornwallis was looking forward to having Clinton's protege under his direct leadership and he intended to push the young man far harder than Clinton ever did.

Cornwallis and Banastre spoke for some short while before his Lordship's duties became too pressing to be ignored. He dismissed the soldier but before Banastre left, he posed Cornwallis a final question.

"Have you heard if Tavington's application has been accepted?" He asked hesitantly. He was still quite put out that his own request had been denied and it would be even more difficult to bear to learn that William had been raised.

"No, I suspect word will reach Clinton or Tavington directly," Cornwallis informed him. "I only received word because you were enroute from New York."

"I see, well, thank you again," Banastre departed, leaving the Lord General to his duties.

After visiting with some old acquaintances, Banastre began making his way back from the Fort to the Gables Plantation just as the sun was setting.

Bath, dinner and bed, he decided as he tossed his reins to a groom and trotted into the manor. To his disappointment, however, he heard voices raised in anger coming from the next landing - one of the voices was that of Major George Hanger.

"I will _not_ comply," Hanger was yelling as Banastre approached him. "The Little Man and I have been together for many months now and I am loathe to give him up."

"The Little Man?" Mrs. Walker said incredulously. "Its a _monkey_! You have bought a monkey into my home - not to mention all those other animals! I will not suffer a menagerie under my roof!"

Banastre sighed heavily. This was one of Hanger's eccentricities, he rarely traveled anywhere without his 'friends', a monkey, several rabbits, a large parrot, a hedgehog, a lizard - the list went on. It would be left to Banastre now, he would have to forbid Hanger from bringing the animals with them when they left for the Santee in a few days time.

The monkey - 'The Little Man' as George called him, was climbing over George's shoulder and shrieking, adding to the noise. From within Hanger's chambers, Banastre heard the parrot start squawking.

"You see?" The Loyalist woman groaned. "They will keep us all awake! No - I forbid it -"

"You may forbid nothing," Banastre ground out, suddenly furious. He was in a dark mood as it was since learning his application had been denied. He would not allow for any Colonial to believe for one _moment_ that they had the right to deny _his_ men a damned thing. The woman turned her startled eyes to him, then took a step back when she saw his dark expression. "Major Hanger will keep his animals to his rooms. Your servants will be allowed in twice a day to take care of the animals droppings. Leave us."

The woman paled, bobbed a quick curtsy and rushed away. Banastre turned his baleful glance on Hanger who was gazing back cheerfully.

"The Little Man thanks you," George quipped and Banastre scowled. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the Major. Hanger's smile slipped for a moment but was back in place instantly. "I have a surprise for you, old chap." He declared.

"Another lizard?" Banastre snapped. "By Christ, if I wake up with another snake in my bed, I'll skewer you with my saber!"

"No!" Hanger chortled. "Oh, the look on your face that morning! Ah, I haven't laughed so hard..." He trailed off at the _current_ look on Banastre's face. The Major coughed delicately. "Ah, well, perhaps that had not been such a good prank to play after all. No, boon companion mine - I have an entirely different surprise - one you will enjoy as much as I, I dare say!"

Banastre's eyes widened with understanding.

"Already? That was quick - I was only with Cornwallis for a short time."

"It's amazing how quickly a few sovereigns will work," Hanger laughed. "Yes, you have guessed correctly - strumpets! Bought and paid for!"

"Ah, you're a man after my own heart," Banastre declared, his spirits rising considerably. "Lead the way!"

The two men ventured into Hanger's rooms and began to play court to the doxies Hanger had found. The Major busied himself putting the animals away into an adjoining chamber, he had only taken them out to impress the 'ladies'.

Hanger had paid for the women with his own coin and by rights, he had first choice. However, of late Banastre always chose golden haired doxies, especially if they had dark brown eyes. One of the strumpets had both and she was gazing up at him with a warm smile. Because she was vaguely reminiscent of Beth, Banastre dashed forward and sat beside her and in doing so, claimed her as his. Though he _did_ shoot Hanger an apologetic smile.

Hanger merely rolled his eyes - he had known Banastre would choose the woman, he had invited her back with Banastre in mind.


	34. Chapter 34 - Authors Note -edit finished

_Authors Note:_

_A huge thank you to everyone who went back and re-read chapters 1 - 16! _

_I've completed the rest now - Chapters 17 - 33. All done! _

_I've added a wee breakdown below so you can clearly see which are the new chapters, or the old chapters with some new content. Though if you were willing to go and re-read the first half of the story, you will probably re-read the second half so you won't really need to refer to the below breakdown._

_But I shall let you decide! _

_Now that this is done, complete, finito - I will get on with the story. Hopefully by the middle of the week, a new chapter will be up. Thanks again for your patience and support and for re-reading the story!_

_:-)_

_This Sunday, its mothers day for us in New Zealand and Australia... So, happy mothers day!_

_xo_

::::::::::::::::::::::::

_Chapter 17 - In the Enemies Lap:__ Mostly new chapter except for the very beginning. Starts with Beth. Burwell's POV - describing his position and the other forces, moving in to take Camden. He receives Beth's letter. Gabriel and Burwel POV. The leave camp, find the spy. Seed him with false intelligence to take back to Tavington. Another Beth POV - sitting on Tavi's lap and kissing._

_Chapter 18 - The Simms Ball:__ Not necessary to re-read, only subtle changes, but the sex scene is way better now. Tavington talks to Cilla then goes in search of Beth, finds her dancing with a tall man. Tavington joins them, challenges Wilkins Loyalty. Dances with Arthur Simms, frets over the threat to his family that only she knows about. Then she dances with Tavington. Only slight changes so far. _

_Chapter 19 - A Chat With Clinton:__ Starts off the same but the second half of the chapter is quite different - and has important plot changes, when Beth and Tavington meet with Clinton after dinner. The conversation is quite important. Skim the first bit but pretty please re-read the second part?_

_Chapter 20 - Back in Arthur's Bed Chamber:__ Slightly different at the beginning, as Beth chats with Tavington about her meeting with Clinton and the Simms. Better sexy scene, which takes place in Arthur's bed chamber now. I think its worth a re-read._

_Chapter 21 - The Lioness:__ Vera's confrontation with Beth is mostly the same but its far more polished and flows better. I've given poor Linda a surname now, Linda Stokes. :-) I cover Bordon and Harmony chatting with Tavington - their conversation before Beth comes up and rages at Tavington. I have tried to show a bit more of Harmony - who always teases and flirts with Tavington. But after Beth joins them, its mostly the same. Just more polished._

_Chapter 22 - Saturday:__ Entirely new chapter and ohh, definitely worth a read, this one! _

_It even starts off with a naked Tavington, face down, sprawled across a bed. How could you pass it up? LOL! _

_Okay, so its the day after the ball. I never covered the following day originally. But now I've done four points of view here, starting with William, Linda, Harmony and Bordon in the morning, then around mid-morning its Gabriel and Anne, Burwell and Peter Howard, Benjamin Martin in the evening and Mrs. Simms and Arthur, also in the evening. Beth gets a mention but she's not in the chapter. She's at the Putman's spending the day in bed._

_Chapter 23 - A Nasty Trick:__ The first half is new, the second half is old - but rewritten and polished. I think it has a few important plot points so might I'd suggest a re-read._

_Chapter 24 - The Unsprung Trap: __The first part is entirely knew - Beth and Tavi having dinner - lots of dialogue. Oh, and Beth gets drunk... :-) This furthers along the Arthur Simms plot that I've been playing with too. Then of course, she is in the Square waiting for Burwell. I've added an interlude where Tavington must make his report to Clinton of the failure. Beth is with him and Clinton questions them both. Read it, read it! LOL_

_Chapter 25 - Something Wild__: Mostly the same - but edited and polished._

_Chapter 26 - The Declaration of Love:__ Nothing new in this chapter. Except that Mage is attracted to _**_Bordon_**_, not Tavington. Apart from that its the same - but edited and polished. When Beth writes her farewell letter to Tavington in the wee hours of the night, she writes an anonymous letter to Arthur as well, to warn him of the plot to attack his family and gain hostages for exchange. _

_Chapter 27 - Departing Charles Town:__ Nothing new in this chapter. Polished, edited and refined. _

_Chapter 28 - In Pursuit of Beth:__ Basically the same, but streamlined. Tavington works it to make it appear that Beth has been kidnapped by Burwell and the Dragoons must go and rescue her. _

_Chapter 29 - Battle at the Falls:__ The battle is mostly the same - polished though. Some small changes - Tavington makes his report to Clinton who expresses his concern over Beth's welfare, believing she has been abducted by rebels. I've worked long and hard on Beth's farewell letter to Tavington and I think its a million times better now - more heartfelt. _

_Chapter 30 - Linda the Mistress:__ Basically the same._

_Chapter 31 - At home With the Family:__ The same._

_Chapter 32 - Beth's Belongings:__ The same._

_Chapter 33 - Banastre Returns to the Fold:__The same._


	35. Chapter 35 - Anon

**_Chapter 34 - ~ Anon ~_**

Mrs. Caroline Simms stirred a level tea spoon of sugar into her cup and stirred it through her tea gently. She placed the spoon on the table gently on the table beside her breakfast dish, then picked up her tea cup and drew a long soothing sip.

"Perhaps she will return to Charles Town, when Mr. Martin is feeling better?" Mr. Simms ventured hopefully. He sat across from her, his breakfast thus far untouched.

"Do you truly believe that Martin will allow his daughter to return here now?" Caroline asked softly, concealing her irritation. "Thats if Burwell chooses to release her to her father's care. Mr. Martin will have learned of his daughter's part in that trap to bring Burwell in. She has probably been bent of his knee for a sound spanking and is now locked in her room. No, husband. Miss Martin will not be allowed to return to Charles Town."

"Damn and blast it," Mr. Simms cursed, drawing a ragged breath. He purposefully kept his gaze averted from his wife, knowing she would be wearing a frown of disapproval. Caroline did not like cursing for any reason. The two sat at the small table on the balcony enjoying breakfast in the morning sun before it became to oppressive to be outside. "What now, then? Do we look to the Middleton's for Arthur's wife?"

Caroline snorted. "Michael, I would not marry my son off to a Middleton if she came with _double_ Miss Martin's wealth. No, I do not want ties to that family."

"Nor do I," Michael Simms mused. "How about Miss Sarah Wilkins? She has no attachments that I know of."

Caroline was about to reply in the negative. The two families, Simms and Wilkins - were already joined through James and Emily, Caroline's daughter. There was no need for another connection between their families just yet. Before she could explain this, a servant stepped onto the balcony bearing a silver tray with her correspondence.

"Thank you," Caroline said as she took the envelope from the proffered tray. The note, it turned out, was addressed to Arthur, a fact that Caroline chose to ignore. She broke the wax and opened the letter.

"Oh, my dear Lord!" She cried half way into reading the letter. Her heart pounded with fear and she pressed her trembling hand to her chest.

"What is it darling?" Mr. Simms rose from his seat and was at his distraught wife's side instantly.

"Read it, oh my dear Lord!"

Mr. Simms read the letter - an anonymous correspondence warning them that their family was in danger.

"Come," Michael said grimly. "We must show this to Clinton at once."

:::

William, Richard and Arthur Simms were admitted into Clinton's small office at once. Mr. and Mrs. Simms - both looking rather shaken, sat across from Clinton in comfortable arm chairs.

"Ah, Lieutenant Colonel," Clinton greeted, rising at once. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"What is it, Sir?" Tavington asked, alert and brisk. He, Richard and Arthur were invited to sit.

"An anonymous letter, addressed to young Arthur, was delivered to the mansion this morning," Clinton explained as he handed the parchment to Tavington. "It warns of a threat to the Simms family."

"A threat?" William and Arthur said in unison.

Arthur glanced at his parents and noticed how pale and drawn his mother looked. He didn't have it in him to chastise her for opening his correspondence. Both Bordon and Arthur, sitting on either side of William, leaned closer to read the letter over his shoulder.

_Mr. Arthur Simms,_

William stopped almost as soon as he began.

"Anonymous?" He frowned. "This is Miss Martin's writing."

He pulled forth Beth's farewell letter, which he had kept in the pocket of his Redcoat. He gave Bordon a brief glimpse - allowed him to read the first few lines of Beth's letter, to see if his adjutant agreed.

"Yes, I'd say so, the handwriting is identical. The parchment she has used - the sheets are exactly the same. I'd say they were from the same stack - see how both are creased in the corner here?" Bordon pointed to the top left corner. "And the ink is exactly the same hue."

"Let me see," Clinton asked, holding his hand out.

"Its a highly personal letter," William said nervously as he handed both parchments to Clinton.

"I will read only enough to make my own judgement," Clinton vowed, beginning to read. He did not read past the first line.

_William, _

_We have only known one another for a short time, but my love for you is so strong, I can not imagine ever loving another person as much as I do you._

Clinton glanced at Tavington with astonishment. Highly personal indeed! Keeping his promise to read no more than was necessary, he shifted his gaze to the other letter to compare the writing.

After a few moments of scrutinizing, he nodded and handed the letters back to William. "I agree, Miss Martin was the one to send you this warning, Mrs. Simms."

"Oh, bless her," Caroline whispered gratefully, near to tears.

"What warning?" Bordon mumbled, they had not read the letter yet. Tavington held it up so the three Dragoons could read it at once.

::::::

_Mr. Arthur Simms,_

_I am sorry for writing to you anonymously, but I have some information to impart and I fear repercussion._

_Please know that I am a friend and only wish you well. Take my warning to heart._

_Lord Cornwallis recently took several Continental Officers hostage. Major Bryant's son - Private Bryant, is one of the captives. Major Bryant is becoming increasingly fearful for his son. He and Francis Marion have hatched a plot that they feel will force Cornwallis to exchange the Continental Officers._

_They are planning to abduct members of __your family__, to secure the calibre of hostage needed to force Cornwallis' hand. _

_Major Bryant is beside himself with grief and fear for his son. He announced that your family has allied themselves strongly with Clinton and Cornwallis, and that they have a soldier son serving in the Green Dragoons, therefore your family does not deserve mercy._

_Unfortunately, Colonel Burwell is in agreement and has approved the plot. I do not believe that Colonel Burwell would allow any harm to come to your family, but that is small solace to a person who is being herded away to the unknown. I'd be terrified if it were me!_

_Mr. Simms, please burn this letter. Do not show it to another soul. I am sorry if I sound selfish but I must ask you to help me remain inconspicuous. Colonel Burwell can not know that I have betrayed this plot. The Lord knows, I'm in enough trouble!_

_Please just take my warning to heart and take steps to protect your family. _

_Good luck, Arthur. I know that if you let Tavington know there is a threat to your family, you will all be kept safe. _

_I'm sorry - I'm rambling. The hour is late and I've barely slept a wink._

_Please, remember to destroy this letter._

_~Anon~_

::::::

"How was this letter delivered?" William asked as he lowered the parchment to his knees.

"A young slave girl," Mr. Simms replied. "I questioned the girl myself. She said that very early yesterday morning, a woman gave her one pound to deliver the letter. She - the little girl - could not get away until this morning. I asked her about the woman but she said the woman's cloak was pulled up close around her face and it was very early in the morning, the sky was only just starting to lighten. She could not describe the woman who gave her the letter."

"She got the idea from Burwell," Richard mused. "He gave that slave five pounds to deliver his letter to Miss Martin in the Square on Sunday evening."

"Yes," William replied softly. "I believe that is the way of it."

"So, what do we do?" Mrs. Simms asked nervously. "We were going to settle at the plantation -"

"That is out of the question now," William said firmly and Clinton nodded agreement. "You must decide on a new destination - Fort Ninety Six or Winnsboro. Or simply remain here in Charles Town. Either way, you will not be left unattended on your plantation."

"I quite agree," Mr. Simms said decisively. "I insist on keeping Miss Martin's name out of this, she seems quite fearful of retribution."

"Yes and she is most likely a prisoner by now - in Burwell's camp," Clinton frowned. "That silly girl - taking herself from my protection!"

William held his silence. He had allowed the Commander in Chief to believe Beth was taken by Burwell and the assumption was that she would be in the Continental camp by now.

However, Tavington himself felt certain that Beth would be with her father by now. Not with Burwell.

"As you said, Sir," William said now. "She is dutiful and believed her father was ill."

Clinton tightened his lips.

"Well, she has served us yet again, it seems," he said. "This warning - at great cost to herself especially now she is in Burwell's 'care'. And so we shall do as she has requested. Security will be tightened around you and your family," he shifted his gaze to Mr. and Mrs. Simms. "No Continental will get close to you and yours, I vow it."

"Thank you, Sir," Mr. Simms said. Caroline hung her head and began to weep with relief, and Michael placed a comforting arm across her shoulders. "All will be well, darling," he murmured.

::::::::::::

Tavington and Bordon's horses clipped along the narrow street, their hooves thudding on the hard packed dirt road, kicking up dust behind them. They trotted along Tradd St but would soon turn off to make their way to the Putman's. Tavington eyed Charlotte Selton's house as they passed by. It was now empty, devoid of life.

_Must speak to Clinton about quartering our Officers there,_ William decided. _No point wasting a perfectly fine lodging. _

He tipped his helmet to some women of his acquaintance, walking along the narrow footpath to the side of the road. Replacing his helmet, he burst out suddenly, "Jesus Christ! The girl doesn't even know which bloody side she is on!"

"She must learn she can't pick and choose as she sees fit, that much is certain," Bordon agreed, also nodding to the women.

"It seems to me," Richard continued as he angled his horse around a slower moving cart before him. "That she warned Burwell of our trap - _not_ because she is a Patriot and it was her duty to do so, but because it went against her own principals and judgement. Just as she is warning Arthur now - for she is certainly no Loyalist. It merely goes against her principals to take civilians for a military hostage exchange."

"Hmm," Tavington tightened his lips. "Yes, she must be made to understand that she must serve the Crown at all times - even if it flies in the face of her morals."

"Still, I admit I feel slightly more sympathetic toward her now," Bordon said lightly. "Now that she has shown her willingness to go against Burwell as well. She is not a completely lost cause."

"As long as she never goes against _us_ again," Tavington said darkly. "We are covering her treason, after all."

"Yes..." Bordon frowned. The two Officers guided their horses along the street, they weren't far from the Putman's residence now. "I admit I'm still quite put out with her. All that time in the park with our dicks in our hands - and Miss Martin had known all along that Burwell was not coming. Hell, it was _because_ of her that he didn't come!"

"I owe you," Tavington said quietly after a moment of silence. "You could reveal us both, right now. I would lose my position - perhaps be hanged myself. Beth would be chased down and hauled back here - for a flogging or to face the noose."

"Yes, I could reveal you both," Bordon said loftily. Tavington eyed Richard from the corner of his eye. The Captain was smirking.

"Name your price," William rolled his eyes.

"Price?" Richard asked innocently. "I am keeping your arse from the fire out of _friendship_."

"I don't doubt that, Richard - not for a moment," William said honestly. "But you still must want something. I will be extracting my own price from Miss Martin, when next we meet. There must be something you need..."

Richard knew what price Tavington would demand from Beth. He also knew that once the two of them were married, William planned to punish Beth with the right of a husband. Which was why the Captain was willing to allow Tavington to deal with her betrayal in his own way. Beth would face a flogging at the hands of a British Officer, either way.

"Very well," Richard thought about his 'price' for several long moments. "If I was to ask a price, I would request you take care of Harmony for me."

"Oh, I can do that," William said at once. He barked a laugh and leered, "probably _far_ better than you."

Richard laughed aloud.

"I'll '_take care of her' _every single day," William continued lustfully. "And twice on Sunday."

Bordon gave him a long suffering look. "I meant, in the event of my death - will you provide for her? See that she is not left wanting?"

"Ah, this is getting better and better!" William tittered. "I'll see she's not left wanting! When do I start - right now, when we reach the Putman's?"

"She's at the tavern working just now," Bordon growled. "And you're not to roger her!"

"Now - see here, you take the fun out of everything!" William lamented. He sobered and gave Richard a sidelong glance as he rode. "You are serious, I take it?"

"Yes. I fear for her. If I die - what will happen to her?"

"I had not realised you felt so strongly for the girl."

"That's because you've had your head up your arse for a week and a half now," Richard scoffed. "You've been blinded to everything but Miss Martin."

"Hmm, perhaps. So, I'm to take care of Miss Jutland - give her a stipend perhaps? Provide her with a small dowry and see her married off to a soldier? If you die, that is."

"Married to some soldier," Bordon scowled at the very idea. "Just give her the stipend, Tavington. Forget the husband."

William snickered. "You can't take your claim to her to the grave, Bordon. The girl will be lonely - she'll want a man to give her what she truly needs."

"You will vow, right here and now, that _you_ won't be the man who will give her what she truly needs," Richard ground out. "Or I'll turn around right now, ride to the Assembly hall and tell Clinton the truth about Miss Martin."

"No you won't - you wouldn't betray a friend - remember?" William bantered. "Nevertheless, I vow not to roger your Harmony, no matter how lonely and desperate she becomes. No matter how she begs me," he glanced at Richard slyly, "...even if she begs on her knees."

"You're a misbegotten, baseborn son of a bastard," Richard muttered.

William nodded cheerful agreement.

"You're in high spirits," Bordon observed. "Is it because of Miss Martin's warning to Arthur?"

"Of course it is," Tavington confirmed. "You heard Clinton. He already feared for her, imagining her as Burwell's prisoner. And now she has just proved herself 'Loyal' in his eyes, all over again. If I play my cards right, I will be able to convince Clinton to give me authority over the girl, when he leaves for New York."

"Authority?" Bordon frowned. "Won't you be marrying her? You'll have authority then."

"Yes, but I need a reasonable excuse to remove her from her father, don't I? Or he can complain to Cornwallis that I've kidnapped his daughter. Clinton knows I desire to marry her and he can't play Guardian from New York. I want him to give me authority over her, along with a command to remove her from her father - for her safety of course. In a few weeks, when we pay her dear father a visit and I take her from his home, he won't have a leg to stand on."

"Agh, I see. Even if Mr. Martin complains to Cornwallis, Cornwallis will not allow Mr. Martin to take her back, because of Clinton's command. Christ, you think ahead, don't you?"

"Its why I'm Lieutenant Colonel," Tavington said smugly. "And hopefully will be Colonel soon. Christ, its taking a long time for his Majesty to get word back to me!"

"Oh, I'm sure he has made it his top priority," Bordon mocked. "His Majesty King George has nothing better to do, after all - than to sort through the many applications from the War Office from grunts like you demanding higher rank."

"_I'm_ a grunt?" William's eyebrows climbed his forehead.

"I hope you're not suggesting that _I'm_ a grunt, Sir. I merely do your dirty work for you.

"Which, by definition makes you a grunt," William murmured.

Bordon shrugged. "You command, and I obey."

"Like an old and faithful dog," William smirked.

"Who are you calling old?" Bordon said lightly as the two men trotted their horses into the courtyard - they had arrived at the Putman's manor.

"When are we going to question Putman?" Bordon asked. They dismounted and tossed their reins to a slave before making their way into the manor.

"I'm going to let him stew in jail for a few days," William pitched his voice low for Bordon's ears alone. "I plan on seducing Mrs. Putman first, to give me something to taunt Putman with."

"Seduce her for sex?" Bordon asked surprised.

"No, Bordon. I'll seduce her for her favorite silk handkerchief," Tavington scoffed derisively. "Yes of course, for sex. What else would I seduce her for?"

"I'm just surprised, thats all," Richard frowned. "I do like the idea... Putman will be furious."

"I daresay."

"Don't worry, old boy," Bordon bantered, seeking revenge for William's scornful comment. "When you fail to get up her skirts, you can still boast of it to Putman as though you did roger her. It will still have the desired effect."

"I see," Tavington stopped at the stairs. "You think I won't succeed. Care to make it interesting?"

"Oh, Hell no!" Bordon began to laugh. "I'm not Banastre!"

Tavington chuckled and headed up stairs to Beth's chamber while Bordon, who had not had a bite to eat all morning, headed for the kitchens.

:::::::::

With his plate filled with bacon, eggs and porridge in one hand and a brimming cup of tea in the other, Bordon made his way to the dining hall. Finding it empty, he sat down at the head of the table and began to eat his meal. His thoughts turned to Harmony, as they usually did during quiet moments such as this one. It pleased him that he had managed to ensure she would be looked after, should anything happen to him.

While working at the Kings Arms was not the most ideal job for a woman, patrons often slipped her an extra coin or two and the owner of the inn was respectful and protective of her. Harmony could not hope for more, and yet she was giving it all up to run off with him and be his mistress in camp.

When he had asked her to become his mistress, they had entered into an unspoken agreement. She would be faithful to him, taking no other man to his bed and he would provide for her every need. And didn't he provide for her every need? Why the Devil did she feel a desperate need to continue working at the damned tavern?

Because she wanted her _independence_.

Bordon's face darkened - it sounded far too close to what these bloody Patriots prated on about. He was not her husband, however and could not stop her from working. Each evening, he usually stopped by the tavern to bring her home - to the small place she rented not far from the tavern. She had spent the last two nights with him in his new room at the Putman's but she had not moved in with him yet. She refused to give up her small room until she absolutely had to.

That damned independence again.

Richard forked a small mouthful of creamed egg into his mouth.

"Captain Bordon?" A woman's voice called, pulling Richard from his revery. He glanced toward the door and leaned back in his chair, eyeing the woman appreciatively.

"Mrs. Putman," he said, nonchalantly returning to his plate. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping I could speak to you regarding a matter of... ah... delicacy," Mage said hesitantly. She took his silence for assent and came deeper into the dining room nervously.

Cilla was still upstairs in the chamber they shared. Mage had told her daughter to remain there in case this discussion turned sour. Still, captive she might be, but this was her home and she could remain quiet no longer! She stopped at Bordon's chair and when he glanced up at her, she swallowed with nerves.

He took his time. A Gentleman never spoke with his mouth full and so he chewed slowly, swallowed and dabbed at his lips with a napkin.

"Delicacy?" He said finally and arched an eyebrow up at her. His eyes lingered on her face, strayed lower to her breasts - confined as they were within her bodice, then back up to her face. She blushed crimson and wondered if the Captain was aware of her attraction to him.

"Delicacy," she repeated firmly, pushing those traitorous thoughts aside. "Sir, I have tried to raise my daughter to have decent morals, to be a virtuous woman."

Bordon blew out a heavy breath and tightened his lips. He knew where this was going.

"_And_..?" He prompted in a rude tone.

"And... Well... As I was saying - she is a virtuous young woman -"

"Yes, we've established that," Bordon interrupted.

Mage drew a sharp breath. She was not used to being interrupted by anyone! It simply was not done in polite society! She forced herself to continue.

"Very well. But the things Cilla has been exposed to since the Green Dragoons began residing here -"

"You mean since we seized your home," he correctly in a murmur.

"Yes, since then," Mage said with a scowl "She has seen some unsavory things - _heard_ unsavory things!"

"What things would these be?" Bordon smirked. "Please elaborate."

"Oh dear Lord! Sir - my room is right next to yours!" She cried, at the end of her tether. "I can hear everything you and your doxy -"

"My what?" Bordon roared and lurched from his seat so suddenly that Mage cut off fearfully and took several steps back. She pressed her hans to her stomach and stared up at him wide eyed. The Captain loomed over her with a livid expression.

"Don't you ever speak of Miss Jutland in that manner again, do you understand me?" He continued in an ominous tone of voice.

"Yes," Mage whispered, her eyes moist with unshed tears. "I - I understand."

"I'm glad to hear it," he curled his lip with derision. "Now, you may continue but do be careful of your tone, Mrs. Putman."

"I can hear it all!" She cried, her tears spilling down her cheeks. "All of it - you and her - Tavington and his dox - ah that is, his mistress," She swiftly changed what she had been about to say but Bordon quirked an eyebrow at he.

He understood fully well that she had almost said doxy. Not that he cared - Linda _had_ been a doxy before Tavington took her as his mistress and when the Commander was done with her, she probably would be a doxy again. Harmony however, had never sold herself for coin.

Mage continued frantically, "Cilla and I, we can hear it all! She's been asking me some very uncomfortable questions and what am I to tell her? Why does Tavinton's mistress scream and cry in his chamber - is he _spanking_ her?"

"With his riding crop," Bordon grinned, his tone thick with amusement. "I believe she likes it."

Mage gasped with shock.

"It certainly doesn't sound like she likes it - with all the howling! And later when she's not crying anymore, then we can hear them... Well... -" She trailed off and blushed crimson with mortification.

"Going at it?" Bordon suggested with a smirk.

Mage drew a ragged breath and closed her eyes. After several attempts at calm, she snapped her eyes open and glared at him.

"All that talk of being in love with my niece," she hissed, her blue eyes flashing. "And he brings his mistress here. She is the woman he's been bedding all week - while he was courting poor Beth! He broke Beth's heart with that woman and he has the audacity to bring her here!"

"That is neither here nor there," Bordon shrugged. "Miss Martin is not here, Tavington can do as he wishes."

Mage bristled with fury.

"And what of the other Dragoons - they all bring their women back here! Sir - this is _not_ a brothel! You show us utter disrespect!" She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving with fury. "Please, can't you understand? Can't you have the women meet you all... _elsewhere_? I do not care if you have to screw them up against a tree in the Square! I don't want Cilla exposed to this any longer!"

Bordon's eyebrows shot up at the aristocratic woman's use of language.

"Hmm, let me see," he paused for a long moment, tapped one finger against his lips as though he was seriously considering her request. "Well... Perhaps..."

Then he locked gazes with her, his expression suddenly serious.

"No. I do not believe I can see my way clear to indulging the requests of _traitors_ who are under house arrest," he said implacably. "You should be grateful you are allowed outside of your chamber at all. You and your daughter will simply have to live with the other women coming to your home."

"Sir, please!" Mage begged. "My daughter should not have to listen to you grunting and rutting! And quite frankly, nor should I!"

"You're not jealous, are you?" Bordon said softly, a small smile quirked his lips and he gazed down at her with a lewd expression.

Mage shivered. She was a married woman and no stranger to the expression a man assumes when he is aroused. With a quick glance down, she noticed the bulge straining in his breeches and her eyes widened as far as they could go.

He reached up and traced Mage's cheek lightly with one finger. Her breath caught and her face flushed crimson. Again!

She hated to admit it, even to herself but unfortunately Bordon was quite correct. Listening to the the handsome Captain making love to his strumpet had stirred her, set her to burning. Mage and her husband Mark were very active in the bedchamber, not only did she miss _him_ terribly, but she missed his _touch. _She missed the pleasures he bought her. And here were these Officers, bedding doxies in her own home, and making no attempt to mask their activities or to keep them quiet. It made her tense and frustrated and...

And needful. Hungry!

Still, she would not admit as much to this Redcoat, no matter how lustfully he was gazing at her! And why _should_ he gaze at her so? Was his whore not enough for him? Mage stifled a smirk. Perhaps the good Captain wanted a woman of quality for a change, rather than a common barmaid.

Hiding her thoughts - and her desire - she snapped out, "how _dare_ you? Sir, I am a _married woman_!"

"So you are, a beautiful one at that." He stepped closer to her, so close she could feel the heat from his body.

Mage swallowed hard and took a tentative step back. Her heart began to pound and her chest heaved as she stared at him wide eyed, her anger crumbling to dust.

"Ah, my poor dear - you're blushing." Bordon said softly. He placed the backs of his fingers to her pale cheek, his touch lingering. "Your cheeks are hot to the touch..."

She took another step back and found herself hard against the wall.

"You mistake me, Sir," she said breathlessly, her arms stiff at her sides and her palms flattened against the wall behind her. "I am angry. Angry that these women are coming here, into my home, angry that my daughter must be forced to listen!"

"I don't believe you," Bordon whispered. He lowered his head to hers and teased her by almost brushing his lips along hers. "With your husband gone, I believe you have need of a man, Mrs. Putman."

"You dare!" Mage gasped. She tried to twist her face away but Bordon was too quick. He caught her lips with his.

"Oh..." She closed her eyes and for a moment, she leaned into the kiss. Then she came to herself abruptly - her husband was in jail - she could not carry on with the men who put him there!

"No... Please, don't..." She reached up and pushed at his broad shoulders but the strong Officer did not budge.

"Please, don't?" Bordon barely drew his lips from hers as he taunted her. His mouth drifted along her jaw to her neck and Mage shivered.

"Shall I stop?" He murmured.

_Yes! No! Oh, dear Lord, I don't know! Oh, what would Mark do if he saw me now?_

She shuddered and tried to get control of herself.

"Please, stop Sir," she said more firmly and moved both her palms from his shoulders to his broad chest with the intention of shoving him back.

Lord, his chest... So hard and broad, she did like broad, strong men. Instead of pushing him back, she began running her hands up and down his chest over his Redcoat.

Bordon chuckled. Taking that as a sign to continue, he curled his fingers around hers on his chest and gazed down at her, so close their breaths mingled.

"Yes, I'll stop," he taunted her softly. "But not until we've finished what we've begun."

His lips claimed hers again, this kiss more fierce, more demanding than the gentle coaxing kiss of before.

Mage's knees buckled. She sighed a soft moan and moved her hands higher, up over his shoulders to drape around his neck.

"Oh..." she moaned as he urged her lips to part and began exploring her mouth with his tongue. She made no protest when he began inching her skirts up her slender thighs. She even lowered her arms from his shoulders, ran her palms back down his chest and continued lower until they disappeared up under his Redcoat to unclasp his belt buckle.

"Maybe you'd like to be screwed up against a tree," he said softly, using the same words she had only moments earlier. "Or perhaps right here against the wall."

From there it was a frenzied rush - Bordon had been aching all morning and Harmony would not be able to care for him until later that night.

Mage would not have her husband at all, for who knew how long? She ripped at the buttons down the front of his breeches and shoved them down to his thighs. His thick member was freed and Bordon immediately positioned his lower body between her legs.

Lacing his fingers beneath her buttocks, he picked her up easily and lifted her high against the wall. Her legs hooked around his hips even as he lowered her onto his length. He slid into her heat easily and, wasting no time, he began thrusting into her wildly.

Mage gripped his neck and stared down at his handsome face, her lips parted and gasping for air.

"This what you needed?" He rasped softly, raggedly.

"Yes," she hissed back. She bucked her pelvis back and forth, forcing his cock deeper inside her. When she felt his helmet pound against the roof of her, she threw back her head and bit her lip against a long groan.

"So tight," Bordon muttered, his entire cock driving into her, pinioning back and forth urgently. "Agh!"

Their urgent gasps sounded throughout the dining hall, as he bucked his hips back and forward with quick, fluid motions as they both strove toward release.

She was pushed against the wall, her legs around his hips and her arms around his waist. There was no longer any need to hold her. Bordon pulled his fingers from beneath her buttocks.

"Harder now, Mrs. Putman," he commanded, planting both his palms against the wall to either side of her head, bracing himself.

"Oh, yes!" Mage moaned, ready for the ramming on her life.

He did not disappoint her. He thrust into her wildly, his climax building quickly. Mage bounced on his length and moaned as wantonly as the strumpets who had been visiting the house. She turned her head to one side, her face set in an expression of agonized pleasure as her heat welcomed and clasped around him.

Bordon drew his length almost all the way out of her before slamming his hips forward to drive deeply inside of her, he did it again and again until the heat coursing through his veins became an inferno and he cried out and threw his head back, driving into her one last time. Holding still this time, his cock twitched and pulsed as his seed spurted deep inside her.

Mage continued to buck, writhe and moan - oh, how she moaned! Her eyes squeezed shut and she shuddered. Bordon winced as her fingers gripped his queue, she pressed her hips forward and arched her back, grunting indelicately as she came.

They panted quietly, Bordon still had Mage pressed to the wall with his cock buried deep within her.

His hands still pressed to the wall, he lowered his head to her shoulder, breathing raggedly as he tried to calm.

Mage nestled her lips against his hair - he smelled damned good - of horse and sweat and wool. All man.

Mage's chest heaved against him. He felt her soft hand stroking his hair, inviting an intimacy that he did not welcome. Besides, his wounds were beginning to pain him, stinging like fire from his exertions.

He pulled his hands from the wall and placed them on her waist. She was still calming when he abruptly lifted her off his length and set her on her unsteady feet.

He had calmed far quicker than she. While Mage had been wistfully hoping that he would shoo his mistress away so she could slip into his room later that night, he had been mentally adding her name to the tally of women he'd rogered.

He barely looked at her as he jerked up his buckskin breeches back up his thighs and around his waist. He buttoned his breeches quickly, then strode away from her.

"Wait!" She cried out desperately.

He turned back and saw that Mage was gripping the wall for support, her legs felt like mush after gripping his hips so tightly.

"That is all?" She whispered.

"Did you want more?" he asked with amusement. "This meant nothing, Mrs. Putman, but I will be happy to repeat the experience when ever you desire, as long as Harmony is at work and does not discover us."

"You can't mean it!" She cried out, shocked to her core. "You can't bring her back, not after this!"

Bordon scoffed. "Must I remind you that you are a married woman, _Mrs_. Putman? You have no cause to be jealous."

Mage sputtered, she had never been treated to ill in all her years!

"It is not just that! We have not settled my concerns! I do not want Cilla hearing -"

"As I said, your daughter is getting an education that not many women her age get, Mrs. Putman," he tilted his head to one side, considering her. "Perhaps I should further that education my self. I will take her to my bed chamber -"

"No! She has been tormented enough!"

Bordon laughed. "Calm yourself. I have no intention of touching your daughter."

Still chuckling, Richard turned, and came face to face with Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington.

William had been watching for some time, reclined back against the doorframe, with one eyebrow arched and a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Mage gasped with mortification, seeing the Officer at the exact same time as Bordon.

"Has Miss Jutland ever told you how hairy your backside is?" Tavington quipped.

Richard was not sure what reaction he'd expected from his superior, but it was not this! The Captain roared with laughter.

"Keep your eyes off my rump, Sir."

"I mean it," Tavington smirked as Bordon approached him. They both ignored the distraught and mortified Mage. "I'd get a slave to pluck those hairs, if I were you."

"I don't think so, sounds painful."

"Nice way to finish off your breakfast," William observed.

"Yes, it was," Bordon laughed again. "Though holding her against the wall like that was Hell on my wounds," he rubbed his shoulder with a smirk. "Should've taken her on the table."

Their words and indifference served to shame Mage all the more.

"The things we do for love," Tavington quipped as he and Bordon exited the dining hall, leaving a weeping Mage behind them. "You were taking some risk weren't you? What if Miss Jutland learns of this?"

"I don't see how she'll learn of it. I doubt Mrs. Putman will be speaking of this anytime soon, do you?"

"You stole my quarry," William observed coolly. "You knew I had a design in place for Mrs. Putman."

"I knew you wished to roger her so you could taunt her husband," Bordon shrugged. "While many women have shown the extremely bad taste to bed you, I do not believe your dubious charm would have worked on Mrs. Putman. Her niece is in love with you, remember?"

Tavington tightened his lips but nodded reluctantly. Bordon was probably quite right. Mrs. Putman would have been outraged for Beth, rather than desirous of Tavington if he had attempted a seduction.

"And this way," Bordon said cheerfully. "_I'll_ be the one to do the boasting when we question Putman."

"Insubordinate bastard," Tavington muttered and Bordon chuckled darkly.


	36. Chapter 36 - Banastre's Reign of Terror

**Chapter 35 - Banastre's Reign of Terror Begins**

_Sunday 18th, June_

:::

Tarleton's Raiders left their camp in the dead of night.

Guided by the lights of their many firebrands, Banastre led his Dragoons in a south easterly direction toward Smallwood.

Banastre's Legion had only left Winnsboro, and Cornwallis' main force, earlier that morning. They had made it as far as Blythewood and their reign of terror had not even begun.

Nevertheless, Banastre received word that Captain Jack Huddy, adjutant to the late Lieutenant Colonel Marion the Fox had slunk away to the home he shared with his wife and children. Huddy, Banastre was informed, was only a few miles away in the Smallwood. Cornwallis' Amnesty had been published and was now in affect, and Banastre decided to offer the rebel Captain the chance to take Cornwallis up on his offer; in person.

They did not have far to travel. Perhaps two hours after setting out, Tarleton's Raiders were in the Smallwood, searching for the farmlet owned by Huddy. As Tarleton approached up the long lane he saw the house was mostly dark. He signalled for the halt and his Dragoons drew rein behind him.

"Now what?" Hanger called as he edged his horse closer to Banastre. The Lieutenant Colonel thought through his options for a moment and decided against knocking politely on the rebel Captain's front door.

"Gather rocks and smash the windows," the young Officer commanded. Huddy had been the cause of much damage toward the British Army and Banastre was in no mood to be nice.

"Yes, Sir," Hanger scoffed. He whirled his horse and passed the order to his men as Banastre continued to gaze at the dark house.

Suddenly, the sounds of smashing glass could be heard the entire way around the house.

::::::::::::::::::

The occupants of the small manor were awoken abruptly by the smashing glass.

"Jesus!" Rollins roared, jumping from his bed. He ran, barefoot, for the door - cutting the souls of his feet on glass splinters. He met Huddy in the hallway.

"There's at least sixty of them!" Huddy said grimly. He edged closer to the large bank of smashed windows and pushed the curtains aside. "Tonight of all bloody nights, with the rest of the militia off hunting!"

"Jack…" Mrs. Huddy moaned fearfully from their bedroom chamber. Wearing only her shift, she clutched their two small daughters to her breast - both girls were equally frightened.

"Stay down, and away from the windows," Huddy commanded his wife.

Rollins had darted back into his chamber, pulled the glass from his feet and donned his boots. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed his musket and met Huddy in the broad corridor once more.

The Captain stood against the wall, side long to the window, peering around the edge down to the Dragoons outside.

"We're surrounded," Rollins said, standing likewise on the other side of the window.

"CAPTAIN JACK HUDDY!" An English voice shouted up from the Dragoons.

"That's Tarleton!" Rollins hissed.

Banastre had ridden his horse forward, after sighting Huddy standing in the window, backlit by the candles that now lit the front of the house on the second story.

"CAPTAIN JACK HUDDY!" Banastre yelled out again. "Surrender now! Accept Lord Cornwallis' offer of Amnesty and no harm will come to you or your family."

"The Hell I will," Jack muttered as he loaded his musket. He sited it down on Banastre through the smashed window and fired the first shot.

Tareleton, having narrowly escaped being shot, cursed and danced his horse further back.

"Fire!" He screamed with rage and his men instantly answered Jack's attack with a volley of musket and pistol fire.

Back in the house, Jack and Rollins whirled from the window and pressed themselves against the wall to avoid being shot.

"Darling please!" Mrs. Huddy screeched. "Don't enrage him further - its useless to resist! We'll all be killed, what of our girls?"

Huddy ignored his wife's pleas. She fell back against the far wall, as far from the windows as she could possibly hope to be. Her maid, a young woman named Lucretia, came forward with an armful of muskets left from the absent militia guard and she began loading then in silence.

"Good girl," Rollins approved, taking one of the muskets. Of all the nights for the rest of Huddy's men to be away from the house! A small forced had been billeted there for months, to protect Mrs. Huddy and the girls but by rotten luck, they were away from their post that night. Which left only Rollins and Huddy himself to protect the women and children.

"Quickly," Huddy commanded. "You take the south and I'll take the north. Run back and forth along the windows, make it look as though there are more of us than there are. Do not stop firing and Lucretia - do not stop loading!"

With that, Huddy raced back through the hallway to his chamber and began firing. Shots from the South side of the house told him that Rollins was doing the same. Both men darted from window to window, firing down as quickly as Lucretia could load, giving Banastre the illusion that there were many men inside the house.

Outside in front of the house, Banastre called for caution.

"He's not alone!" He yelled to Hanger, who nodded agreement. "Return fire but stay back!"

He whirled his horse back to the house and raised his pistol grimly, firing on a black shadow moving past the windows. He clearly saw the shadow duck but just as clearly, Banastre had missed him. He reloaded his pistol and fired again on another shadow darting through the house. His vision was further blurred by the smoke of the pistols and muskets - both from his men and coming from in the house. It was damned near impossible to see what he was shooting at or how many rebels were within.

An hour later and one enterprising Dragoon, under cover of darkness, sneaked up to the house. He was well concealed by the night and the smoke from so many pistols. Striking his flint, he set alight the curtains through the smashed windows on the ground level. The flame took hold and the curtains began to burn.

"If you won't surrender," Banastre yelled during a moment of quiet between volleys, "then we'll burn you out - you and your family!"

"Shit!" Huddy hissed. He raced back through the house to Rollins. "He's set the house alight!"

"Jesus," Rollins replied.

"I must surrender," Huddy said grimly.

"You can't!" Rollins barked. The very idea infuriated him. "Let them do their worst!"

"My family - my wife and daughters! I can't let it end like this -"

"We'll escape -" Rollins began desperately.

"If that were possible we'd have done so already. I'll not leave my wife and daughters to Tarleton and the girls can not come with us - they couldn't keep up! No, I am surrendering."

Rollins tightened his lips. Seeing the sense in the Captain's words did nothing to mollify his fury.

"You go," Huddy said now. "Get out now -"

"I won't you leave you to them!" Rollins cried with outrage.

"Thats an order!" Huddy snapped. "Get warning to Burwell that Tarleton's returned earlier than we expected. Go - NOW!"

Rollins had no choice but to obey. Grabbing his rucksack from his chamber, and with his musket held tight in his hand, he raced down the stairs. How he was to get past the many Dragoons who still surrounded the house he did not know. Keeping his body hidden from view as much as possible, he peeked out the window. His moment to slip outside came a few moments later when Huddy called his surrender and the Dragoons blocking Rollins exit darted to the front of the house, making his way clear.

Meanwhile, Huddy edged closer to the windows. He met his wife's fearful gaze and nodded reassurance.

"See to her, Miss Emmons," he said to Lucretia before turning back to the window.

"Tarleton!" He called down. "Put that out! When it's every spark out, I'll surrender!"

Banastre, still astride his horse in front of the house, nodded at Hanger. Several Dragoons darted forward into the house to battle the blaze. They wrestled the burning curtains from their rails and threw them from the shattered windows. Using blankets, they smothered the flames which had just begun to catch on the furniture. When the blaze was out, Jack Huddy made his way outside. His wife, daughters and Lucretia Emmons stood fearfully behind him on the porch.

"And the rest!" Banastre shouted from his horse. "Not just _your_ surrender Huddy - the rest of your unit as well or I'll burn this house to the ground."

"It was just me," Huddy informed Banastre. "I was running from room to room."

Banastre gazed at the man with incredulity.

"Then who was loading for you?" He asked with polite disbelief.

"I was, Sir," Lucretia came forward. She hung her heard in feigned contrition.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Jesus," Hanger muttered. Banastre stared at the pretty lass, eyes wide in astonishment.

"Search the house, see if he is speaking truly," he commanded abruptly. "Search the woods as well. Seize Huddy."

"_Seize_ me!" Huddy protested as several Raiders came forward to grab his arms. The Dragoons pulled him from the porch to Banastre's stirrup. "What of this Amnesty you spoke of?" Jack shouted up at Tarleton.

"You refused all right to the Amnesty when you opened fire on my person," Banastre informed Huddy. "There will be no Amnesty for you, I'm afraid. Its jail and the noose that awaits you now."

"No!" Mrs. Huddy screamed from the porch and clutched her daughters close. Lucretia placed her arm across her mistresses shoulder as the woman began to weep.

"He had his chance," Banastre shrugged, uncaring. "Take him."

Turning his horse, he trotted away from the house. After a brief search proved Huddy had spoken truly - there were no more rebel militia present - the Raiders mounted and rode away from the house.

:::::::

Rollins darted for the stables and found his horse. Quick as lightening he mounted and rode - bareback, from the barn into the night. He galloped Hell for leather through the Smallwood, in search of the rebel militia camp, ready to round them up to rescue Captain Jack Huddy from a sure hanging.

::::::::::

The Raiders rode into the camp at Blythewood. After the skirmish with the rebels, which cost them their prisoner, the men were wounded, saddle sore, tired and hungry. Including Tarleton, though he himself had suffered no wounds. Having no need of a corpsman, he made his way to his tent. He jumped gracefully from his horse and tossed the reins to a groom, then darted inside.

"Mmm, Banastre," the woman who had been sleeping on his cot rolled onto her side with a small smile. She rubbed at her brown eyes and sat up, clearly pleased to see the handsome Officer who had taken her from Winnsboro and paid her so well. She pushed her blonde hair from her eyes, then began untying the front of her shift. "I've been waiting for you all night."

Banastre stopped short and gazed down at the woman. To say his mood was foul would be an understatement. He had gone to such efforts to secure his prisoner - the very man who had shot at Banastre without warning. He had exalted in his prize, only to be deprived it an hour later by the Goddamned rebel militia.

_At least none of my Raiders died,_ he thought to himself. He cared for his men - each and every one of them. The thought did nothing to mollify his temper, however.

"You will leave, now," he told the doxy. "I need to sleep."

_Did I really think she looked like Beth? She's nothing like Beth, even if she does have blonde hair and brown eyes. Look at her, her breasts bared like a… a doxy. _

He tossed his head, determining right then that he would bed no more pretty blondes with brown eyes. They were only a pale imitation of the woman he loved.

"Sir!" the doxy said, startled. "Surely you must need -"

Banastre's growl cut the woman off, the woman squeaked with fear as his face blazed above hers.

"Get. Out!" He hissed down at her and she jumped from the cot to gather her clothes.

Tarleton collapsed on his cot, boots and all, and draped his arm over his eyes. The morning had dawned almost an hour ago and the tent was too bright already.

The woman clutched her belongings to her chest and stared down at the Officer.

"Should I…" She swallowed, more of a gulp, and tried again. "I'll return to you this evening, Sir."

"No, you will not," Banastre informed her without lifting his arm from his eyes. "I require you no longer."

Her face fell. With a heavy heart - her well paying Officer had rejected her - she turned and left the tent.

The Raiders Reverend would be giving a sermon in another hour or so, Banastre knew. Somehow, he did not believe he would be attending. Only moments later, his quiet snores filled the tent.

:::::::::::::::

Almost one hundred miles away, a short distance between Dogwood Pond and Pembroke, Beth Martin was only just now waking from a sound sleep. Her nights had been thwart with dreams of Tavington since her arrival to Fresh Water, despite her fiancé's presence and Beth had found it almost impossible to get any rest. William was constantly on her mind, to have him invade her dreams made her stay awake in the hope she could avoid him. At least she had some semblance of control over her thoughts when she was awake.

Finally, after the third such sleepless night, Mila had slipped some Valerian into Beth's tea before her mistress retired. This resulted in a long and dreamless sleep, no William invading her mind.

Beth sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Mila was already in the chamber, opening curtains.

"Today's the day," Mila said with forced cheer when she saw Beth was awake. "The first Bann will be announced."

"And then published in the Bulletins," Beth said sadly. "I wonder how long it will be before all of Charles Town knows of it?"

"You mean before _Tavington_ knows," Mila corrected pointedly. "I'd say halfway through the week - Wednesday at the latest."

"Oh, sweet Lord above," Beth collapsed back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling.

"Do you regret it?" Mila asked as she sat on the edge of Beth's bed. "Regret being engaged to Burwell?"

"No, he is a good man. I can't believe how wonderful and supportive he has been these last few days," her tone took on a derisive edge as she continued. "I can't imagine that William would be half so supportive if he was helping me to nurse a broken heart."

"Yeh, I can't imagine it neither," Mila scoffed. "Besides, you have to keep your promise and free Zeke - which you can do once you marry Burwell."

"I'll keep my vow," Beth smiled. "Will you and Zeke come to live with me in camp? I'll still need my maid…"

"Of course!" Mila said brightly. "I can't imagine that Zeke would protest if we were married and Burwell gave him employment. Beth, what was that about yesterday - you were so mad!"

Beth rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what Mila was speaking of, and her anger surged all over again.

"Its just that I don't know my place here any more!" She began to rage. "Before we lived in Charles Town I used to help Mrs. Smythe in the kitchens, I helped you with your chores and I hunted in the woods with my brothers! Now I can't do any of it -"

"Especially the hunting bit," Mila agreed. "Did you see your Aunt's face when you asked?"

"Yes, and Harry's was no less shocked. And all because I'd be wearing breeches… I used to wear them when I was a girl hunting with Colin, Gabriel and Peter. Why can't I now?"

"I agree with what you said - no one would see you," Mila mused. "But they were right too - you're a Lady now - and will be married to a Gentleman. You can't go traipsing off in the woods no more."

"Fine," Beth curled her lip. "But Mrs. Smythe all but chased me out of the kitchens, she was mortified when I tried to help!"

"Great Ladies don't bake in the kitchens, neither," Mila reminded Beth. "I'm sorry, but you're just gonna have to learn that you will be living a different life now."

"I liked my old life," Beth said peevishly.

"You're stubborn," Mila laughed at her. "What I wouldn't give to live the life of a pampered Lady and you're being petulant about it!"

"I'm not," Beth muttered, though she knew quite well that she was. "The part that annoys me most is not being able to hunt. I want to ride through the woods and -"

"See if your breeches still fit you," Mila giggled. "I'll be they don't."

Beth gasped. "I'll be they do!"

She threw off her blankets and strode to her closet. She pulled forth the buckskin breeches she'd not worn since she was at least fourteen.

"Your Aunt used to have fits back then," Mila pointed out when Beth held the breeches up for her to see. "She hated that your Papa let you hunt at all, let alone wear those…"

"Don't tell," Beth said as she stepped into the breeches and began pulling them on. Hiking her shift around her waist, she pulled the breeches up around her thighs. "Oh, my dear Lord," Beth murmured as she buttoned them easily. The breeches were a snug fit but still - they fit her perfectly! She said so to Mila now.

"See, I told you they'd still fit!" Beth said proudly.

"Thats 'cos they are men's pants and were so baggy back then," Mila quipped. "You've gotten fat so now they fit you like a glove."

"I'm not fat," Beth giggled. She held her shift bunched around her waist and admired her reflection in the mirror. The sight of her thighs, backside and front so thoroughly exposed through the breeches made her blush. "Perhaps Aunt Charlotte was right," she murmured and Mila fell on the bed laughing.

"They're indecent!" Mila giggled. "No - you can't wear them! Not even in the thick of the woods where no one can see you! Oh sweet Lord, take 'em off!"

Beth giggled and pushed the breeches down, _peeling_ them from her legs.

"Perhaps I'll wear them for Harry on our wedding night," she giggled. "I think he'd like to see me in them."

A knock on the door cut the girls mirth short.

"Quick, hide them!" Beth gasped, handing the breeches to Mila. Mila - having no place to conceal them, shoved them under her bottom and sat on them. Just in time too, for Charlotte entered the room before Beth even had a chance to invite her in.

::::::::::

"Finally awake, I see," Charlotte observed, closing the door behind her.

"Good morning, Aunt Charlotte," Beth murmured. She was still irritated with her Aunt for interfering the day before - expecting Beth to behave with all the airs and graces her Aunt had taught her over the past four years, despite their return to the plantation. A part of her knew she was being unfair, Rebecca Middleton and her other friends often retired to their plantation and none of them rolled up their sleeves to help with the baking! None of them donned breeches and hunted through the woods. No, her friends were very much the same whether in Charles Town or in the country. Gentle-ladies through and through. And despite the freedoms her father had allowed her growing up at Fresh Water, Beth had to admit that she was a Gentle-Lady also.

_If its anyone's fault, its Papa's! _Beth seized on the thought, deciding that indeed, it was all her father's fault. Giving her the freedom to conduct herself as she wished when she was little, then pulling the rug out from under her when she grew up! Needlework, mending, sewing, practicing the pianoforte, creating art works with her oils and inks. That was her life now…

_And managing a household - when Harry is able to take you to his Plantation at Raliegh,_ she reminded herself. The thought heartened her, she felt less useless now.

"Beth, I have to help Susan get dressed and ready for today, Abigale is chasing after the boys and trying to get them dressed in their suits. Which leaves no one to assist Margaret. Would the two of you help her? As soon as you're dressed, Beth."

"Of course, Aunt," Beth replied. Mila made no move to rise, to do so would reveal the breeches she had concealed beneath her buttocks. "Ah, we'll be just a moment," Beth said, seeing Mila's dilemma. "If you'll excuse us?"

Charlotte'e eyebrows climbed her forehead at being so abruptly dismissed from Beth's chamber. Still, she turned and left as quietly as she had come, and Mila heaved a sigh of relief.

"I think I'll burn these!" She said, rising and snatching up the offending breeches visciously.

"You certainly will not," Beth snatched them from Mila's hands. She folded them quickly and shoved them back in her closet. "Come, help me dress so we can see to Margaret."

"Yes, my Lady," Mila said sweetly and curtsied.

::::::::::::

It was quite a pleasant place, Fresh Water plantation. The manor house wasn't particularly large, not as large as Burwell would have expected for a man of Benjamin's wealth. Then again, Benjamin had always been a fairly modest man, enjoyed a more modest living. Not for the first time, Harry wondered how his friend had managed to secure Miss Elizabeth Putman. The Putman's were not quite as affluent as the Rutledge's or the Simms' but they were certainly a prestigious and noble family.

And Benjamin had been fairly rough around the edges back then, to say the least.

The first time Burwell had visited Benjamin at Fresh Water, after the war near on twenty years ago now, Benjamin had ensconced his new bride in a small cottage while he worked on building her the manor house. It had shocked Burwell - and his wife Bridget even more so. To see the new bride - Mrs. Elizabeth Martin, playing hostess in such a small cottage with as much joy and contentment as Bridget had done in Burwell's mansion had astounded them both.

Burwell's family home was three times larger than the house Benjamin had built, and Benjamin had had six more children than Burwell! Still, it was a homey place, the children seemed content - and very closely knit. He smiled indulgently as he strode from the house onto the porch. The heat of the day hit him like a wave but he was used to it, being Carolina born and bred.

Watching Beth and her brothers reunite, watching Gabriel banter with her as though they had never been parted, was warming indeed. It was their fourth day home and Beth finally seemed to smile more, seemed a little less sad.

A little less heart broken.

Burwell pursed his lips with distaste, unable to conceal his irritation. He tried to keep it from her and had so far succeeded, but the discovery that she was in love with Tavington weighed heavily on him. The idea that she might be thinking of _him_, the Butcher, when Burwell himself took his bride for the first time, was enough to drive the Patriot Colonel to violence. So many times over the last few days, he had almost ended their engagement. However, he had not been able to bring himself to do anything so drastic.

He loosened his grip on the parchment in his hand, he would crush General Gates' missive if he was not careful.

Spying one of Benjamin's many field hands ahead, Burwell approached the man quickly.

"Do you know where Mr. Martin is? I am trying to find him," he asked the man.

"Out in the barn, Sir," the free man replied. "He's a-workin'."

"He's always _a-workin_'," Burwell snorted. "Thank you."

He turned away and headed in the direction of the barn.

Burwell's men were camped in tents behind the house, while Burwell himself was given a comfortable chamber in the house proper. He cast a quick look in his troopers direction, saw them all sitting back at their ease. They were enjoying their respite from the war, sitting reclined under the many trees, playing cards and dice. It was a good sight to see, it gave him heart. He enjoyed moments like these, but of course it was blighted for Burwell - thanks to Tavington.

He strode into the barn and his eyes fell on Benjamin at once. His former Captain did not see him at first, as absorbed as he was in his task, sanding strips of wood.

"No rest for the wicked," Harry said finally and Benjamin glanced over his shoulder.

"No indeed," Benjamin chuckled. "Especially someone as wicked as I."

"Not so wicked, I'm thinking. You want some help?"

"If your hands are idle," Benjamin replied. "Idle hands are the devil's workshop, as they say."

"Only if you're a preacher," Burwell laughed. He walked deeper in the barn and picked up a length of wood the length of his arm. "What are you making?"

"A crib," was the reply.

Burwell hesitated. Benjamin was touchy indeed when it came to his children. Assuming the crib was for his and Beth's child, he spoke quietly, "you realise that when we are married, Beth will be coming to live with me in camp, don't you?"

Benjamin stiffened. As Burwell suspected, this pronouncement was not to his former Captain's liking.

"Yes, I know," he said finally. "This crib is not for you and Beth."

"Oh." Harry frowned, then his eyes widened with surprise. It was for Benjamin and Charlotte's future children! He said nothing for now - Charlotte was another thing Benjamin was touchy about.

Burwell began to sand the length of wood and both men were quiet for a time, lost in the simple task.

"Have you heard from Gates?" Benjamin said finally.

Burwell had sent a missive to General Gates, informing the Commander of Harry's position. Gates was still poised close to Camden, ready to seize the township when everything fell into place and the time was ripe. For the time being, the General did not need Burwell to join the remainder of his force and Harry had requested furlough so he might attend the first - and possibly the second - announcement of the Banns. The General had written back, accepting Harry's request and asking him to send out some of his troops to begin recruiting more men from the area to the Patriot Militia. He may be on furlough, but for Harry, his duties never truly put aside.

Now Burwell had to break the news to Benjamin, who would not been well pleased with the design. Harry had some where in the vicinity of one hundred soldiers with him. Billeting them on Benjamin's property could bring the British down on his former Captain's head. Benjamin wanted no part in this war, everything he did, he did to keep his children safe. And hosting a detachment of the Continental army was not going to make his job any easier - not when the British got wind of it.

"Yes," Burwell said firmly. Benjamin would not be able to stay out of this war, no matter his resolve. The man was deluded, he had his head buried in the sand! Harry drew a sharp breath to contain his irritation. "Yes, I received a missive from Gates not five minutes ago. He has granted me furlough and asks that you quarter me and my men until further notice."

Benjamin glanced up, meeting Harry's eyes and the Colonel sighed heavily.

"I know what you would say," Harry said gently. "You want no part of this war but there is no avoiding it. Look - if you are questioned, tell them you were forced to host us, just as the British are forcing so many Patriots to billet them."

"Yes, that will work," Benjamin snorted derisively. He returned to his work and said not another word.

After a long silence, Harry decided to confide his personal worries to Benjamin, as he had done so many times before. Again, he knew he needed to tread carefully - Beth was Benjamin's daughter and he was fiercely protective of all his children.

_No less than I am of my sons,_ he thought. He understood his former Captain perfectly, it pained him that Benjamin would be dragged into the war. But there was not a doubt in Harry's mind - it would happen eventually. Especially with Banastre Tarleton returning from New York soon. With thanks to his intelligence network, Harry had a good idea of what Tarleton's mission on the Santee would be. Recruit to the Loyalist Militia and create terror among the populace to ensure the locals are simply too terrified to join the Patriots.

"So," he ventured carefully. "Off to Pembroke shortly, to have the first Bann read."

"Yes," Benjamin replied. "Everyone is looking forward to it. Well, the boys aren't looking forward to church, of course. They are restless, my lads. But we've been invited to dine with the Howard's afterward and I know for a fact that Gabriel is looking forward to that. We'll leave as soon as the women announce they are ready."

"Yes, they are taking a while," Burwell smiled. "Gabriel has been writing to Miss Howard from camp and when Peter visits to sell his wares to the soldiers, he always brings Miss Howard along."

"Really now? Now that I did not know. I wonder if there will be two weddings this year."

"Or three perhaps?" Burwell ribbed Benjamin.

"Whose the third?" Benjamin frowned.

_You and Charlotte, dolt!_ Burwell left the thought unsaid.

"No one," he said with a smirk. Then his mood turned more serious. "Ben, there is something I wish to speak to you about."

"Sounds serious."

"It is. Are you aware of Colonel Tavington's courtship of Beth?"

"I've been told," Benjamin scowled, clearly disapproving. "He was quite insistent, according to Charlotte."

"Yes... Ben, has Beth spoken of her feelings on the matter?"

"She's not confided in me, if that is what you mean. Why? Are you concerned?"

"Yes, I'm bloody concerned," Burwell was unable to contain his irritation any longer. "I am in love with her, God damn it, you know I am!"

Benjamin frowned. "And you are about to marry her."

"Yes, but that in itself is a problem. I am about to marry a woman who is in _love_ with another man."

Benjamin's eyebrows climbed his forehead. He locked gazes with Burwell and sighed heavily, seeing the Colonel was utterly serious. Placing his strip of wood on the workbench, he said gently, "I do not believe Beth's feelings for Tavington are as strong as all that. She might be infatuated, but in love?"

"In love," Burwell affirmed in a heavy voice. "She admitted it, she cried in my arms for nearly an hour! I know this is confusing for her and that she cares for me, but I have to tell you... It's damned hard. I've considered..."

He trailed off, unwilling to admit that he had thought of ending his engagement. Not to this man, even if he was one of his oldest and dearest friends. Benjamin was Beth's _father_, after all.

Benjamin gazed at Harry steadily, his blue eyes cold and hard. He understood clearly what Burwell had left unsaid.

"The first Bann is to be read today, Harry," he said finally.

"I know," Harry replied. "I'm just uncertain -"

"Well, you bloody better get certain!" Benjamin snapped.

Harry's eyes widened. It was not very often that anyone spoke to him in that tone. Not often at all! Benjamin drew a steadying breath.

"Forgive me, Harry. I understand this must be hard on you," he said gently. "To be in love with a woman who has declared herself in love with another - especially your enemy. You held her in your arms while she cried?"

"Yes, the day after we arrived here. We were sitting under the trees by the stream when she admitted it and she was distraught, heart broken," Burwell admitted with an edge in his voice. "Heart broken over _Tavington_!"

"Well, that only serves to prove to me what I already knew. That you are the man for her. A damned decent husband you would make and Beth will be a good wife. As you said, she cares for you," he paused as though gathering his thoughts. "She pledged herself to marrying you before that tryst to capture you ever took place - Hell, she put herself at risk for you!" Benjamin's tone became heated again. "She betrayed the _British_ - and who knows what the repercussion of that will be - to keep _you_ safe!

"I know she did," Harry said reluctantly. "I know she went to great lengths -"

"Do you?" Benjamin snapped. "Do you have any idea how terrified she was? Charlotte has spoken to me at length about it. Tavington bullied and intimidated her. She even had to sit down and discuss it with the Commander in Chief herself, did you know that?"

"No," Burwell breathed.

"She had to sit there, as she was grilled by Sir Henry Clinton on one side of her, Tavington on the other. And she told Charlotte how frightened she was, not only for herself but for you. In case they discovered she was deceiving them, afraid she could hang for it. Afraid that you would be caught, that you would hang. But she did it, she sat there and told them all blank faced that she was a Loyalist and would indeed serve them."

"I didn't know any of this," Burwell said quietly.

"Well you bloody do now!" Benjamin raged. "Allow me to make it even clearer to you. When you did not show up in the Square, Tavington confronted Beth. He told her that he would_ 'cane her to within an inch of her life'_ if he ever discovered she betrayed him! He would _cane_ her, Harry! And now he has the Putman's under house arrest - and I have no doubt that he knows the truth of it now. That he will cane her - or hang her - if he gets hold of her!"

"Benjamin, I didn't know..." Burwell said quietly.

"Perhaps you did not know all of these details, Harry. But you _did_ know that she risked herself for you, and now you are having second thoughts about _marrying_ her?"

"Benjamin, my concerns for my future happiness with your daughter are sound ones," Burwell said coolly.

"Yes, they are," Benjamin agreed. "I would not want to marry a woman who was in love with another man, but these are not ordinary circumstances. My daughter has damned well proven her resolve for you, she has proven her willingness to put foolish feelings aside and be steadfast to the Cause."

Burwell was silent as he considered. Though he felt himself torn, he wanted her, so damned bad it almost killed him to consider giving her up. Benjamin's arguments were helping him toward his decision, to marry Beth and protect her from Tavington - the man she loved. And hope that she would eventually fall in love with him, Burwell, instead. Or at least, fall _out_ of love with Tavington.

"You listen to me, and listen well," Benjamin ground out. Burwell lifted his chin high, ready to receive Benjamin's admonishment as though Harry was still a raw recruit. "You have exactly half an hour to make up your mind because once the first Bann is read, the engagement will be official. It will be published, the length and breadth of the Colonies, everyone will know of it. And I will not suffer you backing out then. Not lightly. For our friendship, you will not shame my daughter. Not after the lengths she has gone to, to keep your bloody neck from the noose. Half an hour, Harry. Thats all you've got."

The two held each other's glare, both breathing heavily with pent up tension. Finally Burwell deflated and loosened his shoulders to ease his tension.

"Ben, there is no need to think about it. I will marry Beth. I merely wished to express my concerns. What if she never falls in love with me? What if Tavington holds her heart forever, what if she's thinking of me when we..." He coughed delicately.

Benjamin drew a sharp breath. The vision Burwell conjured, of he and Beth coupling, certainly was not to Benjamin's liking. He would be her husband however, and Benjamin had to accept that she would indeed bed the man.

"When I asked her, she swore that she would not," Harry continued in a rush. "She swore that she enjoyed it when we..." He trailed off, suddenly embarrassed.

"When you what?" Benjamin cried with outrage. "If you've compromised my daughter -"

"Of course I haven't! Hell, Benjamin! I would never disrespect you in such a vile way. No -_ I kissed my fiancé_. That's all. And she assured me that when I did so, her knees felt weak, she responded... well... As though it was agreeable to her."

"You kissed her only?" Benjamin said in a tone that suggested that even that was too much. Burwell nodded. "Well... If she said she responded to it… You should trust her, Harry. Trust her feelings - if she..." Benjamin faltered, at a loss. This was not a discussion he wished to be having about his daughter! "It seems to me that she will welcome you, as a wife aught to welcome her husband."

"I know," Burwell scrubbed a hand across his forehead, dislodging the sweat beaded there. "I was merely expressing a concern, is all. I will marry her and do my utmost to make her happy."

"Glad to hear it," Benjamin finally relaxed. "Because despite her feelings for Tavington, I believe Beth would be distraught if you ended your engagement."

Harry nodded agreement. "I do also."

"She understands the need to have a strong husband, especially one who can protect her from British repercussion," Benjamin picked up the length of wood and began sanding it again. "But that is not her only motive for marrying you."

"No?" Burwell said hopefully, needing further affirmation. "You think she's marrying me because she does care for me?'

"No." Benjamin scoffed. "She's marrying you because you're rich, you old fool."

Harry laughed aloud and the tension between the two finally vanished.

::::::::::::::::

"Hold still, Margaret. Stop fussing." Beth stood behind her younger sister and pulled the laces of Margaret's stays tighter while the younger girl gripped the bedpost.

"It's too tight, I can't breath!" Margaret complained as she was pulled back and forth with quick jerks.

"You are just not used to wearing it. If you wore it around the house more often it wouldn't be a problem."

"It is too hot to wear it at home," Margaret complained. "Besides, its horrible - the boning is so thick but Papa won't buy me a nicer one."

"I'll talk to him for you," Beth promised. "Men shouldn't be picking out women's clothing to start with!"

"Thank you, I knew you would. I've been meaning to ask you for days."

"We'll see what Anne Howard has - I think you are about the same size as she was, she must have her old stays still. And they'll be comfortable because they've been worn."

"Oh, I like that idea. We're having lunch there today, aren't we? After the service?"

"Yes," Beth finished tying off the stays and took a step back to pick up Margaret's bodice and help her into it. "It'll be so fine - I've not seen Anne in... I don't know how long!"

"She's missed you, she always says so."

"I know, I've missed her too. There - you're all dressed! I'll let Mila do your hair - she's better than I am," Beth decided.

"That's because I had so much practice working yours," Mila said loftily as she rose from her perch on Margaret's bed. "Did I tell 'ya, Maggie, of how often I had to re-do Beth's hair to get it to her liking? She was such a proper Lady in Charles Town."

"Oh, she didn't work you too hard did she?" Margaret giggled. She had heard Mila's griping and teasing over the last few days.

"She sure did!" Mila pulled forth some combs and pins and set to work on Maggie's hair. "It's why I've become so good at being maiding now, I had plenty of practice, doing every thing over and over!"

"_Maiding_?" Margaret repeated with a giggle.

"It wasn't that bad!" Beth rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Says you - you didn't have to be maid to yourself!" Mila huffed. "You didn't have to do everythin' all over and over again!"

Margaret laughed, it was almost like old times. Beth had been so sad over the last few days, Margaret had begun to fear that her older sister didn't welcome her marriage to Burwell. But funnily enough, the only time Beth seemed to brighten was when Burwell was around. But Margaret had noticed that even Mila seemed saddened, and she had over heard Mila speaking both to her mother Abigale and to Beth about some fellow named Zeke who she had left behind in Charles Town. Margaret decided that leaving Charles Town was the root of the older girls sadness, leaving all their friends and the fun things like balls and dances and picnics.

"We're leaving soon, are you ready?" Aunt Charlotte asked from the doorway.

"Yes, Mila's finishing up now," Beth said.

"Oh, you look so beautiful, Maggie!" Charlotte exclaimed, coming in to the room to look Margaret over. "Your figure is very fine. You will have all the attention of the boys in Pembroke this morning!" Charlotte fussed over Margaret's hair. "Mila, you've done a lovely job!"

Margaret waited for Mila to spit some quip about being forced to learn 'maiding', but to Margaret's astonishment, Mila smiled brightly, seeming to preen under the praise.

"Alright Ladies," Charlotte said briskly, a Colonel marshalling her forces. "It is time to leave, the men are waiting for us."

The Ladies wafted from the room, leaving Mila behind. That saddened Margaret, she would have liked for Mila to be there to witness the first reading of Beth's engagement. Mila and Abigale both - they were members of the family to her.

"Are you nervous?" Charlotte asked Beth.

"A little," Beth admitted. "Everyone is going to be staring at us..."

"Indeed they will," Charlotte nodded. "It's an exciting event, the reading of the Banns. And Colonel Burwell is quite the well known figure."

"And well loved," Beth affirmed. "In these part, anyway."

They descended the wide stair case, emerged onto the porch. The sun was bright and hot already, though it was early morning. Beth had to shade her eyes as she stepped off the porch.

The men were already waiting, as Charlotte had said. Burwell, Gabriel and Thomas were mounted, while Nathan, Samuel, William and Susan were already on the wagon bed. Benjamin waited at the front of the wagon, Charlotte would ride at his side but Margaret and Beth would ride on the back with Susan and their brothers.

Beth helped Margaret up onto the wagon bed and as she began to climb up behind her, Burwell edged his horse over.

"Beth," he said, holding his hand down to hers in invitation. "Why don't you ride with me?"

"Ride?! Harry - no. I do not think so!" Beth laughed up into Burwell's smiling face. She could see her father out of the corner of her eye, watching with disapproval. Fiancé or not, he would not want his daughter to ride on the back of Burwell's horse into Pembroke, that much was certain.

"Perhaps I should just to irk him," Beth whispered to Burwell with mischief. She continued in a louder voice, "but no, Sir. I have made a vow never to ride another horse again, not after the wild ride from Charles Town! My rump still hurts."

"I can rub it better for you," Burwell whispered and Beth's eyes widened with astonishment.

"I have a better idea," Benjamin called. Luckily for Burwell, he had not heard the Colonel's quietly spoken offer.

Benjamin tried to keep his face straight but Burwell knew the other men well. He gazed at his former captain with suspicion. "How about you let William ride with you, if you think you will be lonely?"

"Ah," Burwell paused, he looked over at William, already bouncing up and down with excitement at the prospect of riding the large war horse. Burwell frowned sternly at the now laughing Benjamin, then nodded at William. "Of course lad, climb up."

"Serves you right," Benjamin muttered as William leapt from the wagon. Benjamin helped the boy up, seated him in front of Burwell before returning to the wagon to help Charlotte up into her seat.

The family, flanked with a small detachment of Burwell's troops, moved out from the farm.

William was already making a nuisance of himself, talking non stop and trying to get hold of the reins. He kicked his heels into the stallions ribs, trying to make him go faster. Burwell rolled his eyes. He showed great resilience, however. Beth noticed he was attentive of William, she watched as he pointed things out to the young boy along the road and answered the constant stream of questions with patience.

Beth watched it all with a small, sad smile.

Four nights she had been home now. Three entire days with with Burwell and still Tavington was never far from her thoughts. She tried to behave as though nothing was amiss, but it was hard, so hard when all she wanted to do was weep. Tears where always present, just beneath the surface. She frequently had to excuse herself and try to find a quiet place to hide, to cry out her grief. Not easy to do with such a large family, especially with the small manor house being so full.

Her fingers brushed dust off her skirts, feeling the large book shaped lump she kept concealed in her pockets. Her diary was her constant companion and not an hour went by that she was not flipping through its pages, gazing at the portrait she had drawn of Tavington. She was well aware that in doing so, she was pouring salt onto her wounds but she was unable to help herself.

She hoped Aunt Mage was correct, that Burwell would help her forget William, that he would help keep her safe from further heartbreak. It was a normal, stable marriage she needed, a loving marriage the same as her mother and father enjoyed before her untimely death six years ago.

Burwell had been such a comfort these last few days. They had frequently stolen away together, for a few moments here and there to enjoy some privacy. Each time they did, Beth forced herself to push thoughts of William from her mind. But a promise was a promise. She would not allow thoughts of William to linger while she was being intimate with Harry. It was hard, so very hard, but she managed it each and every time the two kissed.

After a short while the wagon was driven in to Pembroke. When they stopped, Burwell helped Beth to climb down from the wagon bed and offered her his arm. She linked her arm through his and he gave her hand a comforting pat. They trailed along behind the rest of Beth's family.

As they made their way to the small church, people turned to watch to couple pass. Not all of them had knowledge of the pending engagement and eyes widened with astonishment and awe when the locals recognised Burwell. The denizens began speaking behind their hands as the couple walked across the hard packed road and word began to spread quickly. His mere presence, and that of the other Bluecoat Officers, was enough to cause a great deal of whispered exchanges and excitement.

The entire town was Patriot and many pointed to the well known figure, a man they considered a hero, in their midst.

"Harry," Beth whispered. "The looks we're getting! Those girls over there look _jealous_!"

"Well, you're getting quite a prize, dear heart," he quipped and Beth scoffed.

Burwell took it all in his stride, nodding politely to some villagers and shaking hands with others. He kept Beth's hand held securely in the crook of his arm the whole while, letting them all be see his attachment for themselves.

Finally, the Colonials began to make their way into the church. Once they were seated, Reverend Oliver climbed into the pulpit to commence his sermon.

Burwell held Beth's hand, his thumb trailing light circles over hers. Her heart skipped a beat, the sermon would be ended soon and Oliver would announce the first Bann. It would be official soon, their engagement. In just another few moments...

A confusion of emotions whirled inside of her when Reverend Oliver closed his Bible, preparing to make the announcements. Despair she was not marrying Tavington. Relief that she was marrying a man she did care for. A man she trusted and respected.

The entire congregation was silent as though holding its collective breath, as the Reverend coughed to clear his throat.

"It is my extreme pleasure to publish the Banns of marriage between Colonel Harry Burwell of the Parish of Raleigh and Miss Elizabeth Anne Martin, of Pembroke Parish. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. This, for the first time of asking."

Reverend Oliver looked up to study his flock, the smiled brightly. "I did not think so." Beth blushed as a few people tittered, some laughed aloud. "I will make the announcement twice more but for now, I announce you formally betrothed, Colonel Burwell and Miss Martin." Oliver nodded toward them gravely.

Burwell smiled down at Beth. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and kiss her, though of course that was out of the question in such a public place. In a church at that. He settled for placing his arm around her shoulders and holding her close.

The Reverend had two more Banns to read. The Parish remained silent after each reading, giving one of the flock a chance to protest, though as expected no one voiced objections.

When the service was over, the congregation filed out of the stifling church into the warmth outside. Beth fanned herself furiously as Burwell led her out. As soon as they were under the bright, sunny sky, they became surrounded by the smiling people of Pembroke, offering congratulations and good fortune. Younger girls came forward to give Beth flowers and pretty ribbons. Even the other two newly betrothed couples came forward and Beth noticed the 'brides to be' held far fewer flowers and ribbons than she did. The other girls did not seem to mind however. They were too busy staring at Burwell, wide eyed with awe.

::::::::::::::::

_A/N - that little bit at the beginning with Captain Jack Huddy actually did happen. But it was in New Jersey, not South Carolina and Banastre Tarleton wasn't present. I got the little story from a book "General Washington's Dilemma" by Katherine Mayo. Its full of cool little fact and stories._

_A note to Ms A! Thank you for your reviews! I'm so pleased you're enjoying the story and that you're on the edge of your seat! I wasn't going to post this chapter today, I was going to wait but I saw your review come through today and I decided I couldn't keep you waiting any longer. The chapters will be a few days apart - maybe even a week or so between them, because I want to map them out and plan them carefully, rather than deciding I left out a key point earlier on and then going back to fix it. Foreshadowing and all that! I do have the next five chapters mostly written, so don't fear - you will get regular updates, I promise! Thanks again for reading - and for enjoying - and for reviewing! _

_xoxo_


	37. Chapter 37 - Bickering Officers

**_Monday 19_****_th_****_ June:_**

A day after the Simms had received Beth's warning and William's pleasure had already begun to fade. He'd barely been able to sleep since his argument with Beth at the Simms ball, and her departure from Charles Town certainly did not help matters. The pressures of his duty, sleepless nights caused by his difficulties with Beth, even Colin Ferguson's pending wedding were enough put him in an ugly mood indeed.

He had suspected for some time now that Miss Mary Tisdale had informed Beth of Banastre and William's bid for her virginity, and later of Tavington's continued affair with Linda. He had not had the opportunity to confront the girl thus far but if she was to reside in the British Legion camp, then Tavington knew he must do so, and soon.

After yet another sleepless night, early Monday morning shortly after breakfast, Tavington stopped by the Tisdale residence on his way to the Assembly Hall. After assuring a servant that he was merely there to collect his remaining belongings, he was allowed entry. He trotted up the stairs and strode down the hall toward his former bed chamber. However, instead of letting himself into his room, he knocked on Miss Mary Tisdale's door a little further down the hall.

"Come," her voice called and Tavington strode in, shutting the door tightly behind him.

Mary, who had been sitting at her desk penning a letter, gasped with shock at seeing the Officer stride into her chamber. Tavington was the last person in the Colonies she would've expected to enter!

"Sir!" She rose quickly to confront the Officer. "What is the meaning of this?"

Tavington, in no mood to suffer any foolishness, advanced on her at once. He strode forward until he loomed over the young woman, his face a thunderhead. Mary's eyes widened and she took several hesitant steps back until she was against the wall.

"Miss Tisdale," he addressed her cold, crisp tones. "Did you or did you not inform Miss Martin of the wager that Lieutenant Colonel Tarleton and I had contrived between the two of us?"

No more was needed, Mary - of course - knew exactly what wager William spoke of.

"I… Ah…" She stuttered fearfully, her fingers clutching her silk skirts tight. "Sir, I…"

"Did you tell her or not!" Tavington grated, his shoulders stiff with fury.

Quailing, Mary shrank back against the wall, her hands trembled and tears sprang to her eyes. She nodded wordlessly, confirming William's suspicions.

He glared down at her for several long and tense filled moments, watching her fidget under his gaze.

"And were you the one who informed Miss Martin of my continued involvement with Miss Stokes?" He ground out ominously.

Mary was innocent there. Sort of. She had told _Cilla _that Linda was visiting Tavington at Mary's home and Cilla had, in turn, told Beth. However, Cilla was in enough trouble with Tavington - being under house arrest as she was! Mary could not reveal her captive friend's involvement now.

Her heart pounding with fear, Mary nodded wordlessly again.

His facade of control snapped. William's face contorted with rage, his nostrils flared and his eyes became narrowed slits.

Terrified, Mary crouched away from the enraged Officer but she could not escape his hard gaze, his fury. William's fists curled at his sides, that this woman, this chit cowering before him was at the root of his and Beth's division. He uncurled his fists and forced himself to turn and take several steps back from her, lest he strike her.

"You are at the heart of all this!" He bellowed, whirling to face her once more. Mary swallowed, her hands pressed to her stomach. He strode suddenly forward again and Mary shrank away, breathing an 'oh' of fear.

"Were you eavesdropping then?" He asked in a deadly tone. "Listening in on my private conversations while I was living here?"

"I didn't mean to!" She gasped as her tears spilled over, blurring her vision. "Your door was open and you were talking to the other Officers and I heard Beth's name. I didn't mean to hear but…"

William's hard face blazed above hers, his pale eyes flashing. Mary swallowed, her heart pounding as she waited for the livid Officer to strike her in his fury.

"You dare to gossip about me?" he said finally, his voice now quiet and deadly.

"I-I'm s-sorry!" Mary choked. "I-I didn't m-mean… B-Beth's my friend!"

Mary lowered her head and sobbed. William tightened his lips as he glared down at the wretched girl.

"I know she is your friend," he said coldly. His shoulders were tight with tension, his face set cold and hard. "At any other time I would applaud your stead fast loyalty to the woman I love." He drew a ragged breath, striving for calm. The girl still wept before him but he was unmoved by her misery. Not when her actions were the cause of his and Beth's misery! "But under no circumstances are you to ever meddle in my affairs."

"I - I'm sorry," she rasped through her tears, seeking to mollify the enraged Officer. Her shoulders shook with the force of her weeping, but still Tavington was unmoved.

"It appears I must explain a few things to you, Miss Tisdale," he continued softly, dangerously. "Very soon you will be marrying one of my own Dragoons. You will be coming away to live in camp along with the other Officer's wives. I will not suffer any person under my Command to speak out of turn or spread malicious gossip." He pinned her with his cold gaze. "Officer's wives are very much under my Command as my troopers, do you understand?"

Mary flushed crimson. She wondered what the penalty would be if she did gossip about Tavington? Her mouth went dry as she imagined the worst - a flogging or being put in the stocks.

"I… I understand," she whispered and gulped hard.

"It gladdens me to hear it," William replied cynically. "I would hate to have to punish the wife of one of my Dragoons. I shall forgive you in this instance, for Beth is your close friend and you have shown her Loyalty, no matter how misplaced. In future, you will transfer that Loyalty to me."

"Yes, Sir," Mary said softly. Mary, sensing the worst was over, raised her flushed face to his. Though her lip trembled, she managed to stop crying.

"Now," he said, suddenly brisk. "I have a task for you."

"A… A task, Sir?" Mary blinked up at him in confusion. He had her so unsettled, confronting her and scaring her half to death and now he was asking her to perform a task for him? She licked her lips and hoped against hope that it was something within her ability to accomplish. Tavington terrified her and she did not want to earn any more of his fury by failing him now.

William pulled an envelop out of his coat pocket.

"You will deliver this to Beth."

"_What_?" Mary gasped, utterly astounded.

William took a single step closer, looming over her once more. Mary huddled against the wall, gazing up at the Officer with her eyes as wide as they would go.

"I know the two of you are close, Miss Tisdale. You betrayed me to her, after all," a not so subtle reminder that he was none to pleased with her just then. "I am certain you have plans to write to her. You will do so today and you will conceal this letter in the packet along with yours. You will give instructions to Beth to write back to me through you."

"Sir," Mary said finally. "What if she doesn't write back?"

"You will not be held to blame," William assured her primly. "But I promise you, if you mention one word of Linda Stokes… One word, Miss Tisdale and I vow you will regret it."

"No.. I won't," she rushed to assure the fury filled Officer.

Mary's fingers shook as she took the letter from his hands. She was certain Tavington must know how much trouble she could get into, in entering this conspiracy with him. Benjamin would be furious, not to mention Mary's own father..!

William did not seem to care, indeed, he had not given it a moment's thought.

"You will do this," he said now, leaning in close to her, his cold eyes filled with threat.

Then he drew a deep breath and seemed to calm. His fury faded and his expression became earnest. Tense still, but earnest.

"Miss Tisdale," his voice became impassioned. Her eyes widened, she had never heard such a tone from him. "I am in _love_ with her. She does not believe me but I am and I must convince her! You don't know what…" He stopped, momentarily overcome. Drawing a ragged breath, he continued. "What her absence... What it is _doing_ to me. I can't think, I can't eat. I can barely sleep since our argument and its worse now that she is gone. I can find no enjoyment in anything I do." He swallowed and seemed at a loss for a moment, his eyes locked on hers. He finally continued, more quietly than before.

"She loves me - I know she does. She must be in the pits of despair, whiling away on that farm! I can't stand to think of it - with her so far away. Surely you will be willing to help me? You will be helping her as well!"

Mary hesitated, her eyes lowering to the letter in her hands. Colin had kept her informed of all of Tavington's goings on over the last few days. She knew he was still dallying with that Linda Stokes. And yet he was professing love for Beth? Still, she was caught - well and truly. Whether she believed him or not was neither here nor there. She had to do as he bid her, Mary was too fearful to defy him.

"Yes Sir, of course I will send it," she said.

"Thank you, Miss Tisdale," he said formally, assuming his commanding disposition. Mary saw the relief flare in his eyes, however, and his tension ease before his countenance changed. "As I said, you will be residing in camp soon enough. Sending this letter will go a long way in restoring my regard for you."

Mary was not a foolish woman, she heard the threat in his words. If she did not co-operate, he would make her life in camp a living hell.

"You will send word to me at once, when she writes back to you. Instruct her to conceal her correspondence to me within yours."

"Yes, Sir, I will do as you say."

"Thank you," he nodded curtly and with that, he had strode from her bedchamber and marched from the house.

Tavington had been quite correct in assuming Mary would write to Beth. Rebecca was going to as well, and Sarah Wilkins also. Mary herself had been half way through her letter when Tavington had arrived. She resumed her seat now to continue her correspondence, but was suddenly over come.

Placing her head in her hands, she began to cry. She feared Tavington too much to disobey him, but she hated betraying Beth by not revealing what she knew of his continued affair with Linda Stokes. The woman was bedding Tavington even now - at the Putman's, in Beth's own bed! And Mary could not tell her closest friend this terrible truth - she had no doubt that Tavington would, indeed, make her regret it!

Still sniffling, she picked up the parchment - her half written letter to Beth and tore it in half, then again into quarters. She couldn't send the letter as it was, not with the information she had given Beth regarding Tavington and Linda.

With a heavy heart, Mary began her letter afresh, this time avoiding all mention of Miss Stokes.

When Mary finished writing the letter, she read it through with a heavy heart. It bothered her, she felt a traitor. A coward and a traitor for not revealing what she knew of Tavington and Miss Stokes. Fearing her friend would believe Tavington's love letter, Mary bravely wrote a Post Script at the end of her letter, informing Beth that she could not believe anything the Officer wrote to her. She explained she was unable to go into details - sweet Lord - the post script alone could earn her the Officer's wrath!

All she could do was hope it was enough.

::::::::::::::::::::

As the day progressed the late June heat became increasingly oppressive.

Cilla strolled through the gardens to the rear of the manor house. With its over hanging trees it was the most ideal place on the property to cool off.

These past few days had been pure hell for her and her mother, harrowing and downright scary. On the first day of her captivity she had half expected one of the Redcoats to force themselves on her but so far they had been Gentlemen - or their version of it.

It had been so very frightening but as the days wore on they settled into a routine and she had thus far remained untouched. She and her mother were even allowed to leave their chamber and could move about the house and grounds but they both had guards on them at all times. Cilla did her level best to avoid Lieutenant Colonel Tavington, who was inside in manor at that moment in the dining room pouring over reports. She hated to admit it but that man frightened her most of all. She felt she could hold her own against the other Officers, especially those of her acquaintance - the Loyalist men she had all but grown up with.

Tavington was an entirely different matter.

He was stern and cold - Cilla simply could not imagination how her cousin could be so deeply in love with him! Beth was such a sensible lass usually! And for him to be continuing on with that woman - Linda - in Beth's bedchamber! Cilla bristled with fury. She wished she was brave enough to march into her home, into the dining hall and give that man a piece of her mind! She used to be brave, once. Outspoken. Head strong. Thats what people used to call her. She had enjoyed being defined that way - she was not some soft Gentle Lady!

But Tavington…

No, she could not bring herself to confront that Officer… Not after he had punched her father in the stomach over the slightest provocation. Not after he had taken her father to the cells and seized their home. She could feel his eyes on her sometimes, watching her with a dark expression.

_"Too much like her cousin,"_ Tavington had said. Cilla and Beth were both aware of their resemblance, it was how Beth was able to slip by Tavington's guards all those days ago. For Tavington to watch her the way he did… Cilla wondered if her resemblance to Beth provoked and stirred the British Officer. Perhaps she was not safe from his attentions after all. She shivered as though the day had suddenly turned cold.

Two Redcoats trailed her just then, Corporal Arthur Simms and Private Michael Middleton. She had danced with both of them at the ball hosted by the Simms family only a short time ago! These were two of her long time friends who she had grown up with. Picnicked with. They had dined in one another's homes! Cilla's mother was from Middleton stock - Miss Mage Middleton as she was before she married Cilla's father! Michael Middleton was Cilla's cousin! Sort of… The connection was a little obscure but it was there! They were bound by blood and marriage ties, but not too close. Her own father had considered Michael and Marcus as options for Cilla - she could have been married to one or the other of the Middleton twins.

But now one of them guarded her, prevented her from escaping captivity. Not that she would try to escape, not when it meant leaving he mother behind. Even if she was offered the opportunity at that very moment, she would remain captive unless her mother was freed also.

She could not see how that would be possible, in any case. Looking around her right then, she saw nothing but Green Dragoons in their hated Redcoats. So many of them - she sometimes wondered if Tavington had managed to find room for his entire troop on her property. That would be impossible of course, there were at least two hundred Dragoons in the unit. But they came and went from the manor frequently, as Tavington was using it as his head quarters. Their constant presence made the large manor house seem small, giving the appearance of more Redcoats than there actually were. Fifty perhaps, at any given time. No more. And only twenty or so were living there.

Her footsteps crunched through the gravel as she past the rose bushes. A memory flashed through her mind, of the night Tavington had come to visit and the family had gone for a walk. When they returned here Tavington and Beth had fallen behind the rest of the family and Tavington had picked Beth a rose from one of these rose bushes. He had presented it to her, charming her into falling in love with him. Beth had dried and pressed the flower, keeping it as a memento in her diary.

If only Beth could see him now. If only she could _hear_ him! In her own bed chamber doing only The Lord knew what with that... that... loose woman! That doxy! At least Beth was far from here now, far from the Butcher's clutches.

Not so her father. Cilla worried for him every moment of every day. There was nothing she could do for him, not a single damned thing and it made her want to howl with grief and frustration and futility. She did weep, every night into her pillow. During the day however, she would not give the Lobster back bastards the satisfaction.

"How can you do this?" She cried, suddenly. Her thoughts had pushed her beyond her endurance and she rounded on Arthur Simms and Michael Middleton.

They stared at her, startled.

"Do what, Miss Putman?" Arthur replied finally.

"This!" she snapped, waving her arm around. "How can you participate in this - how can you be a part of it? I _grew up_ with you, Mr. Simms!"

"_Corporal_ Simms," Private Middleton corrected her sharply.

"I grew up with you too, _Mr_. Middleton!" She shouted, denying her 'cousin' his rank of Private.

"I am sorry that this is difficult for you to understand," Arthur replied steadily. "But we are at war, Miss Putman and we each had to choose a side. Those who stand against King and Country are traitors and are not to be treated lightly. Your family, Miss Putman, made the wrong choice."

Cilla felt like screaming. She threw her arms up, whirled and stomped away down the path. She did not get far. Her arm was gripped by Arthur Simms, and she was whirled back to face him.

"Now, listen here," he said quietly and _very_ seriously. "Your father has committed treason, Miss Putman. If there is one person in a single family who is a traitor, Tavington almost always assumes the rest of the family are traitors also. The only exception to this rule are the Middleton's; whose family is so clearly split down the middle. Your position is precarious at best so take my advice and keep a tight rein on that notoriously sharp tongue of yours because if Tavington hears you speaking out, a spanking will be the _least_ of your concerns!"

Cilla stared up at Arthur a little wild eyed.

"Why, what will happen to me?" She asked quietly.

"Nothing good, Cilla," Arthur replied. "Nothing good. So for our friendship, I beg of you, keep your bloody temper!"

Cilla lowered her eyes with defeat and nodded. Arthur loosened his grip on her arm but did not release her entirely. His grasp was reassuring now, rather than forceful.

"All will be well, I'm certain of it," he replied, though he was certain of no such thing. The most likely scenario was that Cilla and Mage would eventually be freed. Nevertheless, he could not promise that Mark Putman would be released. So while the women folk would be fine, chances were, Putman would hang.

She sniffled and reached into her skirts pockets for a handkerchief. When she was more composed, she turned the conversation to safer waters.

"How is Rebecca?" She asked Michael. "I've been cooped up here for days, I haven't seen anyone - any of my friends," Cilla choked a little and the two Loyalist Dragoons assumed sympathetic expressions.

"My sister is fine," Michael assured her. "She misses you."

Cilla, Beth, Rebecca Middleton, Sarah Wilkins and Mary Tisdale had been inseparable in happier days.

"And I her!" Cilla said, unable to hold back her tears now. "And Sarah. And _Mary_ - I'll miss her _wedding_! Can't you talk to Tavington, about at least letting me attend the wedding? You'll both be there, I could sit in between you and I won't try and talk to anyone, I swear! Please? I want to go!"

"I'll speak to Tavington," Arthur promised. "Though I have no control over his answer. Perhaps he'll allow it, perhaps not..."

"Thank you," Cilla whimpered.

Arthur exchanged a troubled glance with Michael.

Arthur had made his promise and he would not break it, but he was apprehensive. Miss Mary Tisdale had become a touchy subject for the Lieutenant Colonel. The young Officers only had a vague understanding of what had caused the contention. What they understood was that Mary had confided to Beth something about Tavington, which in turn had caused difficulties between Beth and the Commander.

Colin Ferguson, Mary's fiancé, had joined the Green Dragoons and so for Colin's sake, Tavington had not unleashed his full rage at the young woman. He had sat her down and told her in no uncertain terms was she never to gossip about him again, but he was very cool toward her, barely polite.

Further to that, Tavington had been bedding Mrs. Vera Tisdale, Mary's mother. Mrs. Tisdale had been sent away from Charles Town to visit with relatives, though the two Loyalist Officers were well aware that she was being kept out of sight for she was carrying Tavington's by blow.

"It'll be tricky..." Michael murmured, seeing the doubt in Arthur's eyes. Cilla was crestfallen and Arthur sighed heavily. Then he perked up as an idea struck him.

"I know - I'll ask Colin to ask! It's his wedding after all, he should be able to invite who he wises and you are friends with Miss Tisdale and Colin both! Also, Tavington seems to like Colin."

"Oh, thats a wonderful idea!" Cilla almost clapped her hands with relief and excitement. "Oh, please - will you go and speak to him now? Where is he?"

"Soon, Cilla," Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do you want to continue your walk or go inside?"

"Say you want to continue your walk," Michael moaned. "Its so much cooler under these trees."

"Alright," Cilla smiled and turned to continue her walk, feeling positively buoyant for the first time in days.

::::::::

"Damned reports," Tavington muttered as he put his signature on yet another. Bordon picked up another from his own pile and sighed heavily.

"Aye," he agreed. "At least its cool in here."

"Hmm." The two men sat alone at the dining hall - Bordon with a small smirk on his face as he remembered rogering Mage Putman against the wall the other morning. Mage had avoided him for the entire day, much to Bordon's amusement. At that moment, she was with her daughter in their chamber upstairs. If Cilla had not been there with her mother, Bordon might have been tempted to pay Mage a visit and see if she wished to repeat their tryst.

Tavington began to read through another report. Though a few would need to be presented to Clinton, most of the reports were fairly standard and the two were getting through them quickly.

"Are you coming to the tavern tonight?" Bordon asked as they worked.

"Hmm, I think I will. For a short while, in any case. I will play a few rounds before bringing Linda back here."

Bordon smirked. "Make certain you're nice and loud. I believe it makes Mrs. Putman quite hot and bothered."

"I'll be sure to remember that," Tavington snorted. "I'm still livid with you by the way, that you managed to get beneath Mrs. Putman's skirts instead of I."

A sharp indrawn breath at the door way caused both men to glance up. Colin Ferguson stood staring down at Bordon wide eyed, his face flushed with shock.

_Careless tongue, _Tavington cursed himself. It was too late, however. Colin had heard the Officer's speaking of Bordon bedding Mage.

"Forgive me, Private - I didn't hear you knock," William gave Colin a pointed look of rebuke and the young man's flush deepened.

"I... I'm sorry, Sir, the door was open and.. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Tavington sighed heavily. "Is there something I can do for you?" He asked a little harshly.

"I have something I wish to speak with you about, Sir," Colin ventured and waited to be invited to sit. Tavington nodded toward a chair and Colin came deeper into the room, sitting at the table across from Bordon with Tavington in between them at the head of the table.

"Well?" Tavington asked crisply. "The suspense is killing me."

Colin had been staring at Bordon with astonishment, no doubt from hearing that the Captain had rogered Mage.

"Oh, yes... Sir, it's in regard to Cilla Putman."

Tavington stiffened, his eyes became instantly cold.

"What of her?" He assumed an indifferent tone. Pulling his field diary toward him, he began making notations.

"Well, Sir, as you know I am getting married tomorrow," Colin began. Mary and Colin - with their father's consents and their Reverend's, were getting married quickly - without any of the banns being read. "Sir, I understand that Miss Putman is being held in custody but I came to beg of you - please, Sir - will you allow her to attend my wedding?"

Tavington gazed at Colin steadily, his quill poised over the page. Miss Cilla Putman at the wedding. As if the wedding would not be unpleasant enough, now Colin wanted Cilla there. Beth's cousin - who resembled Beth so much that Tavington found it painful to look at her.

"No," he said shortly, coldly. Shifting his gaze back to his task, he began writing again - for him, the discussion was closed.

Colin's jaw dropped.

"Sir..." he protested softly - carefully. Tavington's temper was infamous. Even with that small protest, lines began to form around Tavington's cold eyes, his lips tightening. Carefully... And don't push too far... "Sir, its just that Cilla has been friends with Mary for so long and I know how pleased Mary would be to have her there especially since she can't have Be-" Colin cut off sharply. Mentioning Beth now would be a mistake of _major_ proportions. "Ah, that is, her mother," he said, instead.

Tavington's face darkened.

"Do not lie to me, boy," he growled low in his throat. "You were about to say 'since she can't have Beth'."

Colin pulled his eyes away from Tavington's disconcerting gaze. Everyone - not just Colin but _everyone_ - walked on eggshells to not mention Beth's name in front of the Lieutenant Colonel.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Yes, I was about to say that seeing that Mary can not have Beth, she would be ever so grateful if she could at least have Cilla attend her wedding."

Tavington's scowl deepened.

"There will be enough women there," Bordon interjected before the Commander could unleash his fury. "There should be no need for her to have Miss Putman, for she will have Miss Wilkins, Miss Middleton, Miss Mason and Miss Jutland. And others, I dare say."

"Miss Jutland?" Colin frowned with consternation. He was so shocked, he continued without thought, "your _mistress_ at _my_ wedding?"

Bordon bristled.

"Yes, Private," he said in a dangerous tone. "Miss Jutland. My mistress. At your wedding."

Colin was astonished. It was bad enough they were denying him and Mary their actual friends, the women that deserved to be there, now he was expected to invite _strumpets_? No. He had to draw the line somewhere - and this was _his_ wedding after all. His and Mary's. No one should expect them to invite doxies!

It was an insult! And disrespectful to Mary!

"With respect, Sir," Colin said firmly. "Many from our peerage will be in attendance. I believe that Miss Jutland may feel out of place with the society Miss Tisdale and I have invited to our wedding."

There. It was said, as respectfully as Colin could. He did not come right out and say that Harmony was base born and a strumpet, but he did make it clear she would not be welcome among the gentry who would be attending his wedding.

Bordon curled his hands into fists, his entire body was thwart with tension.

"I will suffer no insult to Miss Jutland," Bordon said softly.

"And you have received none."

Surprisingly, it was Tavington who spoke. His frown was directed at Captain Bordon. "I am surprised at you Bordon, why in the world would you expect your mistress to be invited to a wedding of one of Charles Towns patricians? I will certainly not be bringing mine!"

Bordon turned to Tavington, his face wide with shock.

"William!" He protested hotly. "With respect - Harmony can hardly be compared to Linda who, up until a week ago, sold her wares to whoever desired them!"

Tavington snorted - he was not offended in the least. Half of his Dragoons had bedded Linda - Bordon included. And they could continue bedding her, as long as she saw to his own needs first.

"Be that as it may, Miss Jutland is an unmarried woman who is openly sharing your bed. You were not even her first - this we _both_ know! Ladies of the Aristocracy should not be subjected to her presence! As a Gentleman born of the nobility yourself, I would have expected you to understand this!"

"I do understand!" Bordon growled, his face twisted with rage.

"You wouldn't take Miss Jutland to your sister's wedding would you?" Tavington pressed his point.

"Of course not!" Bordon snapped. "My mother would have apoplexy! But we are far from home and we are speaking of the _Colonial_ Aristocracy!"

Richard cut short, realising his mistake at once - he had given away too much of his true opinion, that Colonial Aristocracy was merely an imitation of England's nobility.

"Oh! I see!" Colin raised his voice, hearing the insult at once. "Of course! You conduct yourself at a lesser standard because you are in the _Colonies_!" His voice was thick with sarcasm and outrage.

Captain Wilkins, who had been passing by, came into the dining hall to listen as Colin continued to rage.

"Because our women are not as _noble_. Our aristocracy is merely a _facade_ - you certainly don't have to conduct yourself as a Gentleman among us! Our women are not _proper_ Ladies!"

"Private, you forget yourself!" Bordon raged but Colin was too furious to be stalled so easily.

"By all means - bring your mistress! And Colonel - you bring yours too!" Colin rose from his chair. "Hell, I'll just head on down to the slave docks now and invite the strumpets that ply their trade there! Mary won't mind! Because she's not a _real_ noblewoman - she's just a _Colonial imitation_!"

"You are very close to insubordination, Ferguson!" Bordon shouted, rising also. His face was blotched with red, his knuckles were white - his fists clenched so tight. "And you sound just like a Patriot!"

"What the Devil?" Colin cried incredulously, throwing his arms up in the air. It was damned lucky for them both that the table was between them, or the two may well have gone for one another's throats. "You call me a Patriot because I am protesting this outrage? It astounds me that you would conduct yourself in a less Gentlemanlike manner with my Colonial fiancé than you would your English born sister!"

"He's right," Wilkins interjected, in a very serious tone. "Colonial women of society should not be treated any differently to the peerage of Britain," he pinned Bordon with an arched stare. "Now, do you care to suggest that _I_ might be a Patriot for holding such an opinion?" He challenged while standing at Colin's side.

Wilkins expression dared his fellow Captain to do just that. There was not a man in the army who questioned _Wilkins_ Loyalty.

Bordon pressed his lips tightly and said nothing.

"Care to tell me what this is about?" James asked Colin. Colin was still staring balefully at Bordon and the look was being returned with interest. There might be bloodshed soon, despite the table between them! Tavington gazed at them both, allowing them time to sort this between themselves before intervening.

"He wishes to bring Miss Jutland to my wedding," Colin ground out. Wilkins drew in a sharp breath.

"Captain Bordon!" Wilkins voice rose in astonishment. "My wife and mother will be at that wedding! Impossible! You can't be serious!"

"Why isn't it possible?!" Bordon shouted at James. "Because she is a 'loose woman'? A 'strumpet'?"

"Yes," William said clearly.

Bordon froze. He turned slowly to stare down at Tavington, his eyes wide with shock.

"Bordon, as fond as I am of Miss Jutland, Wilkins and Ferguson are entirely correct," William continued crisply. "What do you think Clinton would say? Mrs. Simms will be at the wedding! We shall do nothing to insult the Loyalist aristocracy of South Carolina. Every single one of them support the war to some degree or another in ways too numerous to count. Clinton would be none to impressed to hear complaints from patricians, who were forced to associate with women of more _dubious_ character."

Bordon bristled, momentarily at a loss for words.

"And yet Ferguson wants _Patriot_ Cilla Putman to attend the damned wedding?" He ground out finally. "A _traitor_!"

"Patriot she might be, but she is still a noblewoman!" Colin cried. "She has committed no treason!"

"Come to think of it," Wilkins said calmly. "Most of the Patriot leaders are from the Colonies elite. Being a Patriot does not mean a person is lowly born," he curled his lip. "It merely means they are deluded fools who all deserve to hang."

The men fell quiet and as expected, they all turned to Tavington for his judgement. As he had known they would.

"What will I tell Harmony?" Bordon asked before Tavington could speak. "I've allowed her to believe she would be attending - if she suddenly can't, I'll have to tell her why - it will crush her!"

"Then you should have chosen your mistress more wisely," William snapped, frustrated now with his Captain. "Or better yet - not taken a mistress at all seeing that you are so clearly inexperienced!A Gentlemen who keeps a mistress lives two lives. He takes his wife to formal, high society affairs," he placed his two hands on one side of the table, then shifted them over an imaginary line to the other side of the table. "And his mistress, to affairs of the more common type, such as gaming houses!"

He held Bordon's glare and continued, "unless the woman herself is of the nobility - which Miss Jutland most certainly is not - Gentlemen do not take their mistresses to mingle among the peerage. End of story."

Bordon stood tall, his face blanked of emotion, one arm looped behind his back. Seeking to control his anger and offence in the age old military stance. Tavington sighed heavily.

"I believe I have a solution," he murmured and all eyes turned to him. He held Colin's gaze. "Private, Miss Jutland is not well known amongst the peerage. I believe she could pass off for one of them - she has done so twice already. As long as they do not know she is Bordon's mistress, you will not be disgraced by inviting her."

"Mary knows," Colin frowned. "Is that not enough?"

"No it is not," Tavington snapped. "You fiancé is not entirely in my good graces, as you damned well know! I hardly care if she knows Miss Jutland is bedding Bordon, nor do I care if _she_ is distressed by Miss Jutland's presence!"

Colin held his silence but his face was blotched red and his body tight with anger. Mary had been in the right to tell Beth of Tarleton and Tavington's intentions toward her - of their disgraceful wager. For Colin, it served as another example of how little these 'Gentlemen' thought of South Carolina's aristocracy, that they could treat so disgracefully with Beth!

"I was not speaking of Miss Tisdale, Private. I was speaking of the _other_ guests," William ground out. "It will not be common knowledge amongst them all, only a handful will know the truth. Most of them will simply believe Miss Jutland to be a woman Bordon is courting - much as they assumed when he took her to the ball. Her presence there will not reflect poorly on you or your bride."

"You want me to allow this." Colin said, flatly and furious.

"Yes and in exchange I will allow Miss Putman to attend."

Tavington held Colin's gaze, he saw the Private's indecision. Bordon shifted beside him and slowly resumed his seat.

"A bargain. Take it or leave it, Private Ferguson," Tavington snapped, out of patience. He had more pressing matters to attend to, than who attends Colin's bloody wedding! "If Miss Jutland does not attend, nor does Miss Putman."

Colin tightened his lips, damned near shaking with rage. This was _his_ wedding! His and _Mary's_! He was bargaining for Cilla Putman to attend - a close friend and a woman of quality at the price of suffering the presence of a strumpet!

Still, he was left with little choice. Cilla herself would be extremely disappointed if she could not attend and Mary - Hell, Mary would be in tears! And so Colin's decision was made for him.

"So be it," Colin grated. Then he turned to Bordon, noting that some of the Captain's tension had eased with Colin's acceptance. Swallowing a sharp retort, he nodded curtly and strode from the room.

:::

_A/N: To Ms A - thanks again for the lovely review! Haha - yeah, Benjamin's protective of his kids - and Burwell was speaking of Ben's daughter after all! _


	38. Chapter 38 - The Thing About Gossip Is

_Monday 19__th__ June, afternoon._

Colin marched up the steps of the Tisdale manor and rapped smartly on the large oak door. Several hours had passed since his confrontation with Bordon but he was still furious over the turn of events. It had been most gratifying, informing Cilla that she was allowed to attend his wedding, she had teared up instantly and Colin had known he'd made the right decision. But now he had the unpleasant task of informing his gentle betrothed that in order to invite Cilla, he'd been forced to invite a Goddamned strumpet.

A large African opened the door and Colin was admitted into the house.

Harmony was nice enough, he conceded as he walked into the house. Friendly, had a willing smile for everyone and a quick wit as well. But he had visited the tavern where she worked, he'd drank ale and played cards with the Middleton twins, Simms and Wilkins several times. He'd seen her wafting from table to table, had seen the men groping her rump as she leaned across them to place jugs of ale or bottles of wine before them. She usually laughed and shoved their hands away, waggled a finger at them in admonishment before wafting away to serve at another table where she was groped all over again.

And this was the quality of woman who would be at _his_ wedding?

The Tisdale parlor was large and warm - welcoming. The fire was not lit - it was far too hot even at night to have a fire burning. Candles in the wall sconces and on every flat surface made the room bright and cheery. It did not match his mood - not at all.

Colin was not surprised to see Captain Trellim and his cohort Banksia were already there. With Mark Putman imprisoned, Mr. Tisdale's manor had become a headquarters for the Patriots who had been placed within Tavington's ranks.

Spies.

Tisdale himself had made it clear to Colin that Tavington's conduct with his wife - Vera Tisdale - had lost any Loyalty the Crown could have hoped to enjoy from him. It had been a simple thing for Colin to convince his future father in law to allow the Patriot spies to use his house for their meetings.

Mary smiled up at him from the chaise. Colin's breath caught, his anger began to melt as he stepped deeper into the room and sat beside her, taking both her hands in his. He pressed her fingers to his lips then draped one arm across her shoulders to draw her close. Trellim and Banksia nodded a greeting, both men seemed on edge as though waiting for something. Or someone. Mr. Tisdale sat across from them with a leather bound book in his hand. Colin met his eyes over Mary's head.

"Is something amiss, son?" Mr. Adam Tisdale asked. "You look ready to chew rocks."

Mary's contended smile slipped and she drew back to study Colin carefully.

"What's wrong?" She asked with a concerned tone.

Colin blew out a heavy breath.

"The damned Redcoats, thats what," Colin muttered. "Mary, Cilla was distraught over not being able to attend the wedding -"

"Oh, I know. It's terrible, Beth won't be there and I won't have Cilla either!" Mary began to wring her hands in her lap, her eyes welled with tears. "I know I'll have Rebecca and Sarah but I miss Beth so much!"

"I know. Dear heart, while I can't possibly find a way for Beth to be at the wedding -" he paused as a stab of fury jolted through him. Beth had been his closest companion growing up along the Santee and it infuriated him that circumstances had taken her from him - the one woman he would have wanted above all others at his wedding. And it all came back to Lieutenant Colonel _Fucking_ Tavington and the Goddamned Redcoats! Suppressing his fury, he continued in a mild tone, "I've managed to organise for Miss Putman to attend."

Mary placed both hands over her mouth and gasped.

"Truly?" She cried, then threw her arms around Colin's neck. "Oh, Colin! That's wonderful."

"It comes at a cost, however," Colin ground out. He pursed his lips and gently pried himself loose from her slim but surprisingly strong arms. Sitting back to gaze down at her, he gathered his nerve and said, "I was forced to allow Captain Bordon to bring his mistress, Miss Jutland."

The room grew so quiet, Colin imagined he could hear the crackling flame from the many candles dancing on their wicks. Pure fantasy, of course. All eyes were on him, but it was Mr. Tisdale who spoke first, in a very cold and hard voice.

"You were forced to do _what_?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," Colin said apologetically. "But I had to allow it - or we would have been denied Miss Putman."

Adam was quiet for several moments, then he leaned forward menacingly.

"It was bad enough that I had that woman here in this house - rogering Bordon only a door away from my daughter's chamber!" His voice rose, he was clearly incensed. "While my wife _fucked_ Tavington in his!"

Mary gasped, her fingers at her throat.

"Sir, please! Not in front of Mary!" Colin protested hotly and Adam tightened his lips, striving for calm.

"Forgive me, Mary," he said to his daughter.

"That's alright, father," Mary said a little breathlessly.

"Mary, it's the only way - I am so sorry," Colin said earnestly, shifting his gaze to Mary.

"Colin, I want Cilla there, I truly do. The horrible thing is, when I first met Miss Jutland, I really quite liked her! She does not behave as I'd image a... a mistress to behave, so perhaps all will be well."

Banksia scoffed. "It's not as though she'll start dancin' on the tables, if that's what you're fearin'."

"No, I am certain she will conduct herself in a manner which will do us all proud," Colin shot back, his voice thick with sarcasim.

"Yes, just don't allow the other guests to pat her bottom," Trellim said primly.

"Ah, but it's such a nice, firm bottom," Banksia quipped. "I've patted her many a time and she's given me such a lovely smile for my troubles. Bordon's a lucky bast... Ah, that is, Bordon's lucky, is what."

Even Mary knew that Banksia had been about to say 'bastard'.

"Sweet Lord above, what sort of woman is she to allow such?" Tisdale's bellow took them all by surprise. "This is absurd, to expect us to -"

"Sir!" Colin protested, knowing that Tisdale was about to forbid Harmony from attending. "I know what you would say and I could not agree more. But as it was pointed out to me, not many will know that Miss Jutland is Bordon's _mistress_ - they will merely think he is courting her. I am certain she will behave appropriately and if we forbid her from coming then Miss Putman misses out and that I simply can not allow."

The two men locked gazed and Mary held her breath as she waited. Her father had a muley, stubborn expression on his face and she just knew he was about to hold firm, such was his hatred for Redcoats since his humiliation at Tavington's hands.

"Father, I don't mind, I truly don't," she told him. "I agree with Colin. Miss Jutland - I've seen her at formal affairs and she does conduct herself respectfully. I want Cilla there, Papa - please, don't gainsay this."

Adam blew out a heavy breath but he eventually nodded with defeat.

"Very well," he muttered. "But those damned Redcoats, thinking they can blackmail and bargain! I doubt that Tavington would expect his British born Gentlemen to make such concessions! They would not be forced to accept mistresses and courtesans at their weddings!"

"That's what I said," Colin agreed. "Actually, Tavington did too. He took me by surprise, seeing that he's got that Linda in his bed still. She's become his mistress now."

"No!" Banksia hooted and smacked his leg. "Agh - not Linda Stokes, from the tavern where Miss Jutland works! I've lost count of the times I've..." He paused, shooting Mary an apologetic glance. For her benefit, he modified what he was about to say. Instead of _'I've rogered that pretty cunny of hers for the cost of a few guineas'_, he said "ah - yeh, I've lost count of the times I've spent an enjoyable evening with her... For a handful of coins, if you take my meaning."

Mary was aghast. However, while she indeed took his meaning well, it was the discovery that Tavington's mistress had been a prostitute that shocked her.

"Dear Lord!" She cried. "He is bedding a… whore? He's supposed to be a Gentleman! That... That... Oh, I don't know of a word strong enough to describe him!"

"A good thing you don't," Tisdale said and sniffed primly. "He better not be thinking of taking that one to the wedding! I'll damn well draw the line there!"

"No, Sir," Colin assured him. "In fact, he seemed quite shocked that Bordon wanted to take Miss Jutland. He went on to say that Bordon needed to learn the difference between wives and mistresses. There is no fear that Tavington will bring Miss Stokes."

"I still can't get over him taking _her_ as a mistress," Banksia chortled. "I know so many whose been with her!"

"You haven't, I hope!" Mary said coldly to Colin. His eyes widened with shock and he stammered.

"No! Mary - you know I haven't... That is... I've never…" his eyes flickered with embarrassment toward the other men. He lowered his voice as he continued, "Mary! How could you say such a thing?"

Banksia chortled again. He wanted to rib Colin for declaring himself a virgin but decided to behave himself in front of Mary.

Tisdale and Trellim were far more serious.

"My daughter's wedding," Tisdale mused, his eyes locked on Trellim's. "They show us utter disrespect, these Redcoats. Why didn't I see it before?'

"They hide their true selves behind their Redcoats, thats why," Trellim replied. "They are Gentleman on the facade, only."

"That reminds me," Colin spluttered, furious all over again. He began to rage. "Bordon let slip that while he would conduct himself as a Gentleman back in England, he is amongst _Colonial_ aristocracy now. I believe he thinks he can treat with our women however he sees fit, because he does not see them true Ladies!"

"Of course he believes that," Tisdale snapped. "So does Tavington - who bedded my wife the first night he resided in my home! He does not believe we Colonials are deserving of respect at all!"

Mary watched nervously as the four of them began to discuss their opinions and experiences in a heated tone. She was glad that heavy parlor doors were closed from prying ears. She would not want her servants repeating some of the things these men were saying about Tavington, to Tavington himself. He frightened her no end, especially after being cornered by him and being told in no uncertain terms that she was never, ever to spread gossip about him again. His eyes had been so cold and hard, he'd seemed as though he was restraining himself against a violent need to lash out.

She had, she didn't mind admitting to herself, actually been afraid for her person! And never mind that it had been her duty to Beth, to inform her friend of the Officer's horrid intentions!

::::::

"What we need, Gentleman, is Mr. Mark Putman!" Colin said hotly. Mary was pulled abruptly from her revery and she stared at Colin, white faced with fear. "We can not leave him languishing in jail!"

"That we can't, boy," Trellim said firmly. "We have a plan in place already. But what we need is a Redcoat - a proper one - a British man born and bred."

"Private Watson," Colin and Banksia said in unison.

"Private Nicholas Watson," Trellim agreed. "He will be here shortly, we were waiting for him when you arrived."

"And the plan?" Colin asked. He tried to hide the thrill of fear and nervous excitement flashing through him. It felt so good, so _right_, to be doing something to help Mark but at the same time it set him on edge. Christ, if they were caught...

He shuddered, then drew a deep breath and hardened his resolve. Fishing in his despised Redcoat, he drew forth a pilfered parchment and handed it to Trellim. "I've done my part. It's one of Tavington's reports, written in his hand, with his signature at the bottom. I snatched it from the table when Bordon was arguing with Tavington."

"Well done!" Trellim praised as to took the parchment and had a long hard look at the signature. "This will do perfectly, what do you think Banksia? Can you forge the Butcher's hand writing?"

Banksia took the parchment and began to study it.

"I thought that we could write the order to include Mr. Putman as well," Colin said, referring to Trellim's plan.

They needed an example of Tavington's handwriting and signature in order to forge a command demanding Mr. Edward Rutledge's release. It would be a simple matter to add Putman's name on the order as well. The written order, coupled with a British Officer (Watson) should be all they needed for the command to appear authentic enough for the unwary guards at the jail cells. Trellim had organised a group of eight Patriots so far unknown to Tavington, to accompany Watson. The men would wear pilfered Redcoats, accompany Watson to the cells and if luck was on their side, they would be leaving with Rutledge and Putman.

A simple plan as far as rescues go, but deadly to those involved if they were caught.

"This will do nicely," Banksia confirmed.

"Good," Trellim then turned to Colin. "I agree - it will be easy enough to put Putman's name on the written orders. It is the timing that I am afraid of."

"Me too, we'll need to get Mrs. Putman and Cilla away as well - we can't leave them in Redcoat hands."

"No we can't. We'll have to time it perfectly so the two coincide. I will need time to think of how we'll get Mrs. Putman out. In the meantime however, Banksia, you will need to get to work copying Tavington's handwriting and practicing to forge his signature."

Trellim turned to Mr. Tisdale. "Thank you for allowing us to meet here, we had need of a safe location for these discussions."

"Not at all, though I could wish Mary had not heard what she has heard this evening," Tisdale sighed heavily. "I do not want my daughter put at risk. I am beginning to think it is quite foolish, sending her to camp with you, Colin. When you're married, that is. If you are caught - what will become of Mary?"

"Oh, Papa, don't say it," Mary answered for Colin with a shudder. "I want to stay with Colin, despite the dangers."

"Hmm," Tisdale murmured, his eyes lingered on Mary and Colin's intertwined hands. "I know you do. Trellim, how quickly can you put this plan in place? I'd like to see Rutledge and Putman freed."

"We'll make a Patriot of you yet," Banksia declared and the former Loyalist Tisdale smiled politely.

"I'll admit I do not ask the question entirely out of my new found leanings toward Independence," Tisdale murmured. "But out of the need to ingratiate myself with Governor Rutledge.

Banksia chuckled indulgently. "Good enough for me."

"As soon as possible," Trellim answered Adam's question. "Putman faces a hanging if Tavington can get enough evidence of his 'treasonous' activities. Nevertheless, rescuing his family might complicate the plan and it could very well fall apart around our ears."

"I understand," Tisdale agreed.

Colin shifted uneasily in his seat. He swallowed and gazed at the men, wondering if he should tell them what he had over heard about Mage and Bordon, or leave it well enough alone.

"Out with it," Banksia barked, seeing Colin's uncertainty.

"Well... It's just..." Colin sighed heavily. "It's something I heard Tavington saying when I approached him this afternoon with regards to Cilla attending the wedding. As I came into the dining room, he was saying to Bordon, 'I'm still livid with you by the way, that you managed to get beneath her skirts instead of I.' "

"Whose skirts?" Trellim frowned and Colin blushed. Of course the men could not follow his train of thought and he had not told them who he was speaking of.

"Ah... Well... they were speaking of Mage Putman."

"Dear Christ!" Tisdale snapped while Trellim and Banksia exchanged worried glances.

"Are you certain? Perhaps he was lying or perhaps you heard wrong -"

"No Captain Trellim," Colin hung his head. "I wish I was."

"Jesus Christ," Banksia muttered.

Colin glanced at Mary, whose mouth had fallen open with shock.

"You see?" Tisdale barked suddenly. "They treat our women with utter disrespect - seducing married women left, right and centre! It's despicable! Then again - how stupid is Mrs. Putman, to allow herself to be seduced? What the Devil is Putman going to make of it?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Trellim replied heavily. "For now, lets just concentrate on freeing him."

::::::::::

At the same time as the spies were meeting at the Tisdale residence, Wilkins and the boys were stumbling into their third bar for the evening. Each one of them was well and truly on the way to being completely and utterly crocked.

Simms slammed the heavy oak door shut behind him and the other patrons - already sitting around tables and playing rounds of Faro, turned with frowns and scowls.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he stumbled after his friends.

Most of the Patrons wore Redcoats, but some of them were Loyalist men in normal gear, hoping to become acquainted with the British soldiers. Many of them wished to join the elite Green Dragoons, but Tavington was rather selective. He took only the best riders and shooters, placing the rest of his Loyalist recruits in his infantry.

Wilkins stumbled past the rows of tables looking for a place for him and his boys to sit when he caught sight of the Lieutenant Colonel himself, sitting with Bordon and a few others, already playing a round.

"Tavington!" Wilkins called out with delight. "Bordon!" He stumbled toward the table and collapsed into a chair uninvited. The Middleton boys and Simms following suit.

"Deal them in," Tavington commanded and cards began to fly across the table toward Wilkins and the boys.

"Mighty kind of you," Wilkins quipped. "How you doing over there, Captain _Bordy_? Your got that temper under control?"

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you Captain _Wilky_," Bordon rolled his eyes. If too many of the men heard Wilkins calling Bordon 'Bordy' the epithet would surely stick. He chose to ignore it for now. "How much have you had to drink, James?'

"Lost count," Wilkins shrugged carelessly. He had to hold his cards close to his face and cross his eyes to see them better - he was seeing double of everything. Then he smiled appreciatively, he had been a rather good hand.

Bordon glanced at Tavington and smirked.

"Wilkins is giving himself away," he whispered. "I can read him like a book. I think we'll win some sovereigns from these wealthy and soused Loyalists tonight."

"I dare say," Tavington smiled. "Just keep your temper. After your outburst this afternoon, Wilkins is going to put you through your paces, I suspect. He likes to taunt, he does."

"As long as Harmony doesn't over hear," Bordon glanced around and spied his mistress serving at table. "It will distress her to know I had to wrangle to get a bloody invitation for her."

"I think it will distress her even more if she over hears them speaking about your tryst with Mrs. Putman," Tavington murmured back. "No doubt they all know of it by now."

Bordon's eyes widened in shock.

"Agh, cock and balls, you're right!" He lamented. "Perhaps I should simply leave before Wilkins gets a chance to blurt _that_ out when Harm is close enough to hear."

"Hmm, perhaps," Tavington sniffed. "It would serve you right for stealing my quarry out from under me."

"You still harping on about that? I'm telling you, Mrs. Putman would not have bedded you!"

"Oh ye of little faith," William smirked. "My charms and abilities are far greater than you could possibly imagine."

Bordon rolled his eyes again. It heartened him to hear the Commander banter again, almost like his former self. William's pleasure over Beth's warning letter to Arthur Simms a few days previous had been short lived. Tavington had soon slipped into his dark mood again - Miss Martin had truly gotten under his skin. Until this evening, Bordon had been increasingly concerned for him.

"Another round then we'll leave," Tavington said.

Prior to Wilkins abrupt entrance, the tavern had been at a low din. A hum of men talking, laughing, drinking. With Wilkins arrival, and the other lads to be sure, the clamour had risen several octaves. James was already regaling the other Officers at their table with a story of some conquest or other - he was well known for not keeping to his wife's bed. The others were laughing and he spoke increasingly louder to be heard over the Officer's guffaws.

"You're leaving with me?" Bordon asked, throwing down a card.

"Hmm, I'll collect Linda on the way," he fixed Bordon with a stern eye. "Seeing that you've had your way with Mrs. Putman."

"Christ, you're not going to let it go, are you?"

"Not in a hundred years."

"Huh - you should visit her in the dark tonight, pretend to be me. The same as we did to Vera Tisdale - putting Ban in her bed."

"The Hell I will!" Tavington said with mock outrage. "She'll damn well know it if I am to roger her."

"Roger who?" Wilkins called across the table. Too late Tavington realised he had spoken a tad too loudly. "Who are you to roger, then? Out with it."

"Your sister," Bordon called back. The men exploded with laughter, James included.

"She has more sense," Wilkins chortled while the men still sniggered. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Harmony was not in hearing distance, then leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Not like Mrs. Putman, I hear. Quite the conquest, I take my hat off to you, Sir."

Bordon scowled, but only half heartedly. He'd never intended to keep his seduction of Mage to himself, after all. He just wished they could discuss it anywhere except the tavern in which _Harmony_ happened to be working!

"At least he has the ware withal to check for Miss Jutland before shooting his mouth off," Tavington observed to Bordon.

"Sir! I'd say nothing that would compromise Captain Bordy's happiness with the beautiful Miss Jutland," Wilkins declared, then turned his bleary eyed gaze to Bordon with a lusty smile. "No matter how much I'd like her to be free of you so I can roger her myself."

"Roger _you_? She has more sense," Bordon quipped loftily, mimicking Wilkins words and tone from a few moments ago.

"Clearly, she does _not_ have more sense!" Wilkins laughed. "Seeing that she's bedding _you_!"

"And who, exactly, might you be speaking about, Captain Wilkins?" A woman asked tartly behind him.

Wilkins whirled in his chair and found himself face to face with Harmony Jutland. She stood over him, holding an empty jug in one hand, her other hand on her hip and her foot tapping with irritation.

"Ah, Miss Jutland -" James began but Harmony cut him off.

"You were speaking of Captain Bordon bedding someone, weren't you?" She arched a brow. "Someone _without_ sense."

Bordon chortled, sensing Wilkins was about to get the tongue lashing of a lifetime. The other men fell quiet, amused, to watch Wilkins shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Ah, yes," Wilkins tried to turn on the charm. "I was merely expressing my jealousy, Miss Jutland. You are quite a vision after all."

"A vision who lacks sense?" Harmony asked pointedly. "Am I…" she tapped her lip with one finger, pretending to search for the right words, "a _stupid_ vision then?"

"No! Not at all!" Wilkins cried. "I assure you, I believe you are as intelligent as you are beautiful."

Harmony shifted her gaze past Wilkins to the chuckling Bordon across the table.

"Dear heart," she said to him. "He really is quite lucky this jug is empty," she held the jug high then upended it slowly above James' head. If it had been full, Wilkins would've been drenched with ale just then.

"I dare say," Bordon sniggered. "Though I am certain you can find another use for it - you could smack it over his head."

"Indeed I could!" Harmony agreed, she widened her eyes with exaggerated comprehension. "Though I was too **_stupid_** to think of that myself," she continued with a pointed look at Wilkins.

Harmony then tightened her grip threateningly on the jug and Wilkins waved his hands up in surrender.

"Please! Save my poor head, Miss Jutland. I beg for your mercy. I meant no such thing - merely that you are beautiful and intelligent and utterly wasted on Bordon."

Harmony scoffed and wafted away from them while the men exploded with more laughter and began teasing Wilkins unmercifully.

"Phew - she is a handful." He wiped a hand over his brow in feigned relief.

"She's my handful and don't you forget it," Bordon said lightly.

"Lord - she's too much for me! She's all yours! Dear Lord though - she's an excitable thing," Wilkins muttered, then a sparkle of mischief entered his eyes. "Tell me, how is she in the -"

"Enough!" Bordon roared with outrage. "Jesus Christ, you don't know when to shut it, do you?"

"- In the sack," Wilkins finished. Scoring a hit, he preened smugly while the others laughed.

His smug expression turned to a scowl, he was losing the hand at a very fast rate.

This lifted Bordon's spirits of course, for even if he did not win the hand, he would take great enjoyment at watching Wilkins lose. Which James did, when Tavington took his turn and showed his hand by placing his cards on the table. William had won the round, the coins in the middle of the table were his.

"Thank you very much, Gentlemen," he preened as he pulled the coins toward him, then rose from his seat. "It's been most agreeable."

This announcement was met with a chorus of protests from all of the Officers, not just James.

"You're not leaving!"

"No - that was the last of my coin!"

"Come now - one more hand!"

Tavington laughed and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, Gentlemen. A good evening to you all."

"Simms, escort Harmony home would you?" Bordon asked. "She finishes in an hour."

"Yes, Sir," Arthur slurred.

As the two left, the men at the table heard Tavington telling Bordon he would fetch Linda and they'd be on their way.

"Christ, you should hear the two of them," Private Brownlow began gossiping at once. A few of the Officers, Corporal Simms included, resided with Tavington and Bordon at the Putman residence. "She screams like she's being caned."

"That is because she _is_ being caned," Ensign Dalton snickered. "I've heard she likes it!"

"What of him - bellowing like he does? Surely he wouldn't let her do it to him? Not _Tavington_!"

"I don't know, but I happened to glance down at his wrists when he was pulling his gloves on this morning and his skin was red and grazed like he'd been bound!"

The men guffawed and chortled.

"I would never let a woman tie me up, even that pretty Linda," Wilkins bantered. "I'm not one for rough play, myself."

"I'll bet he's sore over Miss Martin leaving," Marcus Middleton said wistfully. "Linda's got not a patch on Beth for beauty,"

"Oh-ho!" Wilkins cried. "You aren't carrying a flame for our little lass are you?"

"Perhaps a small one," Marcus smiled. "Well - don't you? I saw you flirting with her at the ball - and you're married to Arthur's sister!"

"Ah, but a married man can only be truly happy if he has a lovely mistress!" Wilkins declared.

Arthur laughed right along with the others. In his opinion, James could do no wrong. He worshipped the ground his brother in law walked on and turned a blind eye to James' many infidelities.

"Miss Martin seemed quite receptive of me that night," James continued in a boasting tone. "She flirted with me, told me she thought I was handsome. I thought I had a chance with her - I reckon I could've encouraged her to a quiet corner and spent the rest of the night kissing those lovely plump lips of hers."

"Kissing only?" Michael Middleton quipped. "I'm surprised at you, I thought you'd want more than a few stolen kisses from any girl."

"I would've tried for more, but I doubt very much Miss Martin would be the type to give it," James pinioned.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Arthur scoffed drunkenly. He regretted his words immediately as all eyes turned to him, all of them astonished and eager to hear more. "Shit on it, I shouldn't have said that," he moaned. He was too soused by far and he'd said the words before his brain could stop him.

"Well, well, well," James smiled brightly. "Me thinks my little brother has a tale to tell, lads."

"I think he does too, if you ask me," Marcus bantered. "Michael?"

His twin was nodding agreement. Brownlow and Dalton joined in eagerly.

"Do tell," James coaxed and Arthur groaned, knowing the other men were not going to let it go.

"Christ, Tavington'll kill me. And Miss Martin - she did right by me and my family, so you keep this to yourselves, mind? I like my head right where it is, safely on my shoulders."

"My lips are sealed," James said eagerly and the other men nodded, promising never to repeat a word. A hush descended over the table as they waited with bated breath for the information Arthur had to share with them. Unfortunately, Arthur had been drinking for most of the evening and he did not lower his voice as much as the situation warranted, other patrons nearby could hear his words clearly.

"It happened at the mansion, the night of the ball," Arthur confided in what he thought was a hushed tone. "Tavington came to me and told me he wanted to slip away with a young woman for a short while. I knew he meant Miss Martin, he'd barely left her side all evening, after all. I suggested my chamber and gave him the key, and directions - the most direct route is through the library and I told him it would be devoid of life seeing that most of the guests were in the ballroom or on the grounds. So when, a short while later, I saw Miss Martin disappear into the library, I was not surprised in the least."

James began chuckling as he exchanged glances with his amused companions.

"Perhaps I would have had a chance after all - if it weren't for Tavington! You've managed to keep this to yourself, little brother. I'm most disappointed in you." He said, though the rebuke was not a serious one.

"Sweet Lord above - Tavington would've killed me. Anyway - thats not the end of it," Arthur continued and the laughing men fell silent again. "Now remember, my parents wanted me to marry Miss Martin, didn't they? Well, the following morning, Mama began tearing strips off me. She said that the maids had seen 'evidence of coupling' on the comforter on my bed. She meant they had seen white stains - seed -"

James burst out laughing, unable to contain himself.

"Was there blood too?" He sniggered. "Was little Miss Beth Martin a virgin that night?"

"No blood," Arthur shook his head. "Trust _you_ to think of that, James! So no, I don't think she was a virgin. Anyway, I couldn't deny it without exposing Tavington so I had to sit there and listen to a lecture on bedding women in my bed- under her roof!"

"Your mother's a damned dragon," Wilkins commiserated, speaking from experience, the woman being his mother in law of course.

"Hell, why do you think I've been staying with the Dragoons at the Putman's?" Arthur asked emphatically. "Anyway, get this. She asked me what _Miss Martin_ would think of it if she found out about my _debaucheries_! Mama was fuming, because she thought that it would ruin my chances to marry the girl! But was Miss Martin in my chamber with Tavington, all along!"

"Oh, the irony!" Michael Middleton cried.

"So, Tavington did indeed bed little Miss Beth Martin and it was not their first time at it! That wiley old bastard!" That from Wilkins.

"I wonder when he took her virginity then?" Marcus mused, feeling somewhat dejected. "When would he have had the opportunity?"

"The public ball!" Michael announced, after much thought. "She and the other girls stayed at the Tisdale's that night, remember Marcus? Becky was one of them. And that was when Tavington was still quartered there."

"Of course!" James slapped his palm against the table top. "I'll wager you're right - he probably told her to leave her door unlocked!"

"And crept on in when everyone else had retired for the evening!"

"Ah, wouldn't that cook Old Ben Martin's goose?" James crowed. "All those years of prating that Patriot nonsense at the Assembly meetings and his daughter ups and loses her virginity to a Redcoat! I wonder if she'll give Old Ben a half Patriot, half Loyalist bastard?'

This time the tittering was not contained to Wilkins table - other patrons at the tables close by began to laugh.

Then, when they were asked what the great joke was by others too far to have heard, the tale was repeated again and again. News of "Old Ben Martin's" daughter losing her virginity to a Redcoat began to spread like wildfire through the tavern.

"Do you think that's why she fled Charles Town - was she pregnant?" Marcus asked reluctantly.

"You don't know much about the facts of nature, do you boy?" Wilkins snorted. "It would be a little too soon to tell. Perhaps Tavington refused to marry her after taking her virtue. Perhaps he got what he wanted and then he disdained her afterward. The poor dear fled with her heart broken."

"Then why'd he go after her like that?" Dalton asked in his British accent. "It wasn't to chase after Marion the Fox, I know that much. Besides, he was calling her his _fiancé_. He even told Marion to hand his '_fiancé_' over, before the skirmish started."

"I agree," Simms said as Harmony came to their table with a tray filled with glasses and a jug of ale. "And judging by how surly he's been, I'd say _she_ left _him_."

Harmony began to laugh. She placed then tray on their table then put both her hands on her hips, giving each Officer a mocking look in turn.

"Aren't you a bunch of brave ones, aye? To gossip like a cluck of old hens about_ Tavington_ when he is not here?"

"You're close to him," Wilkins said to Harmony. "How about you enlighten us, hmm? Why did Miss Martin leave Charles Town - was it -"

"Oh - ho!" Harmony cried, throwing her hands up before her. "You are not involving me, no Sir!" She laughed again and began to stride away, but a flirty Wilkins jumped up and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing her back to his chest.

"Come now, my beautiful one," he whispered close to her ear. Harmony rolled her eyes. She pushed at his hands on her stomach but they would not budge, he was far too strong. Wilkins laughed down at her, she was well and truly caught in his embrace.

"Miss Jutland, on my honor I will release you as soon as you answer my question."

"The drink has addled your wits," she said tartly. "You'll release me or my Richard will have your head."

"Just one little question, pretty please?" He coaxed. She sighed heavily and Wilkins smiled with triumph. "Why did she leave?"

"How in the world would I know that?" Harmony frowned. "I barely know Miss Martin."

"Has Tavington said anything to Bordon, that he has passed along to you?" Wilkins pressed.

"You're absurd if you think I'll break Richard's trust!" Harmony laughed. She tilted her head back to gaze up at Wilkins. "He'd have **my** head too!"

"So, there's nothing you can or will tell us?" Wilkins asked, disappointed. Then he realised that Harmony was not struggling in his grip, that she was gazing up at him with a small smile. Such a pretty creature, he'd desired her for the longest time. He began running his hands across her stomach over bodice. "Perhaps we can make better use of our time..."

Harmony smiled and turned in his embrace, she reached up on the tips of her toes as if to brush a kiss across Wilkins lips. Without a thought for what Bordon would think, James smiled broadly and bent his head to receive her kiss.

At the last moment, just before their lips touched, Harmony announced loftily, "no, I've changed my mind." She jerked her head back abruptly, leaving James Wilkins kissing empty air. With a laugh at his expression, she disentangled herself from his arms and began to walk away while the men at the table began tittering at Wilkins.

But a thought occurred to her and she turned back to James, her face grave.

"I've heard the talk that is spreading through the tavern, that Miss Martin lost her virginity to Tavington. There is one thing I will tell you," she said quite seriously, with no hint of her earlier amusement. "And that is Miss Martin did not bed Tavington, no matter how much 'evidence' there was on Simms' comforter."

"No?" Wilkins arched his eyebrows. "How do you know?"

"They had an argument that night, before the fireworks were let off over the mansion. I heard Miss Martin myself - when she told Tavington that she regretted stealing away with him, that she was glad _she had not given him her virginity_." She emphasised the last words - they were the only evidence she had to save the other girls virtue.

"Oh-ho!" Wilkins chortled. "Then it definitely _was_ Miss Martin Tavington took to Arthur's room?"

"Yes, but..." Harmony frowned. "You're not listening! I am telling you, she is a virgin!"

"Yes, I'm _certain_ she's a virgin," Wilkins gave her a slow wink and Harmony scowled with frustration.

"By tomorrow, all of Charles Town is going to believe otherwise and she will be ruined, her virtue destroyed!" She said passionately.

"Even if she is still a virgin - which I highly doubt - she was _in Arthur's chamber alone with Tavington_," Wilkins pointed out. "They could have been reading passages from the Bible to each other in there and it would make not one bit of difference."

"Sir, don't you understand how devastating this could be -" Harmony tried again but James cut her off.

"It was not so innocent, however. She _carried on _with Tavington, pleasured him enough that the evidence was splattered all over the bed. Either way - virgin or not, I'd say Miss Martin is quite ruined, my beautiful Miss Jutland."

He bowed to her politely and turned back to his companions, who immediately began to discuss the unlikelihood of Beth still being a virgin.

_Oh well, I tried... _Harmony thought sadly as she continued serving. At each table she visited, she heard the patrons speaking of Miss Martin and Tavington, alone in Arthur's bed chamber. There was nothing she could do for the girl now, the gossip had taken hold of the entire tavern. It was beyond Harmony's ability to quash, she would've had an easier time of stopping a wild fire with her bare hands.

It bothered her greatly that a woman's respectability and stature would be destroyed for no damned good reason. She had _liked_ Beth! Harmony had always liked strong willed women over simpering fools and she had seen a lot of herself in Beth.

Nevertheless, it was as Wilkins predicted. Whether Beth bedded Tavington or merely fooled around with him, it would have made no difference. She had been alone with the Officer, in a bed chamber, and that was infraction enough.

The rumor took on a life of it's own. As drunken men stumbled from the tavern - for the next tavern or to visit a doxy or even to stumble home to their wives, they took the tale with them, embellishing it with each telling.

Of how 'Old Ben's' daughter had bedded a Redcoat. How he had refused to marry her. How she had left Charles Town all in a rush, because not only was she ruined and heartbroken, but because she had discovered she was carrying his child. Sometimes the story changed, depending on who told it.

Patriots told of how Miss Martin had rejected Tavington. She had refused his marriage proposal, fearing her father's disapproval. Then she'd fled when the Butcher became too jealous and possessive. Even still, they spoke of her opening her legs for him and that she was now carrying the Redcoat's bastard.

The following morning, Ladies of the aristocracy throughout Charles Town - Loyalist and Patriot alike - were discussing Beth's predicament over tea. Other lower born women were speaking of it at market or while they did their chores.

News traveled quickly enough within Charles Town, but gossip traveled even faster.

:::::::

_A/N - to Ms A: You read the story over and over? That's so cool! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you have the others. Thanks for another awesome review!_


	39. Chapter 39 -The Disastrous Effects Begin

**_Tuesday - 20_****_th_****_ June - Charles Town_**

Bordon loosened his cravat. He wished he could strip his Redcoat off and wear nothing but his ruffled white cotton shirt. Unfortunately, a British Officer was required to be in uniform at all times, except under special circumstances.

"I've decided that I hate South Carolina," he muttered to Tavington, who sat across from him at the desk in Mark Putman's office.

"I quite like it myself," William admitted as he read from his field journal. He had a fair amount of administration to catch up on and was endeavouring to get some done that morning. Clinton needed his reports and Tavington was painstakingly translating his scribbled notes into something more substantial for the Commander in Chief.

"Even with the heat," he continued, distracted.

Bordon scowled and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a kerchief.

"Some wedding this morning, hmm?" He said now. "Are you going to the banquet this evening?"

"I will stay for as long as protocol dictates," William said primly.

As the Commanding Officer, there was always the expectation that he would attend the official ceremonies of his Dragoons Officers, weddings being no exception. Though he was loathe to do so, he had attended church that morning and stood with his fellow Officers as Colin Ferguson married Miss Mary Tisdale.

"Besides," he continued. "Linda will be waiting for me this evening. Rogering her will be a far more enjoyable prospect than listening to more of Tisdale's speeches."

"He was a little long winded, wasn't he?" Bordon chuckled. "Harmony and I will leave early also. She wants to have a few whiskeys tonight and she can't while she behaving like 'a fine lady'."

"Sounds as though she hasn't enjoyed herself a Hell of a lot thus far. Perhaps you shouldn't have made such a fuss to get her an invitation, hmm?" William arched an eyebrow and pinned Bordon with a stern gaze.

"Perhaps," he shrugged nonchalantly.

His argument with Colin Ferguson had caused a deep rift, one that Bordon was now expected to smooth over. Richard himself was uncertain why he had been so infuriated, why he had fought so hard, to ensure Harmony could attend the wedding. The truth was, she was uncomfortable with all the well bred women, those of the aristocracy. While she could fit in with them fairly well when she had to, she much preferred the more earthy company she usually kept with the other women at the tavern.

A knock sounded on the door. Bordon and Tavington exchanged a 'pointed' look. The reason they had taken a hiatus from the wedding celebrations was because the two men had heard whispers. Rumours, concerning William and Beth at the Simms ball. After very little digging, Bordon had discovered who lay at the heart of those rumours.

"I think I'll speak with young Arthur alone, Richard," William stated coolly.

"Just as I thought," Captain Bordon nodded. "You'll keep Harmony's name out of it won't you? She doesn't want the other Dragoons to know she repeated what they were saying at the Kings Arms last night."

"Yes, yes - your mistress will be kept out of it," William waved the comment off. He hardly had need of Harmony's testimony in any case. He'd heard the gossip from five different sources already - each story more embellished than the last.

Bordon had risen and was letting a very nervous Arthur Simms into the office. Richard shut the door behind him as he left, leaving the other two Officers in private.

"Take a seat," William waved his hand to the seat Bordon had vacated and Arthur sat down slowly.

Tavington considered the youth for some time before speaking, watching with his piercing gaze as the boy squirmed in the chair.

"Do you know why you've been summoned, Corporal?" William said finally, his deadly drawl breaking the silence.

"Yes, Sir," Arthur hung his head in shame.

"Do you understand that I wish to marry Miss Martin?" The Commander asked.

"Yes, Sir," Arthur whispered.

"And yet you felt it prudent to announce to Wilkins and the other Dragoons - in a tavern filled to the rafters with Officers - that I stole away with Beth and bedded her on the night of the ball."

"Sir, I am so sorry. I was drinking and -"

William cracked his fist on the table, the loud smack cut Arthur's protests off mid sentence.

"I gave you a confidence, Corporal!" He bellowed, out of patience. "If the drink loosens your tongue so much, how can I trust you would not reveal military intelligence to the wrong ears every time you get soused?"

Arthur closed his eyes, utterly mortified to have lost the Officers trust.

"I want her to be my fiancé, God damn it," William raged. "I want to marry her but after what you revealed, she is as good as ruined!"

Silence from the youth. Arthur had no words now, nothing to say in his defence.

"News is rife through the township and is already leaking out of the province! I wouldn't be surprised if Beth hears of it herself in the next few days! How will she be treated, hmm? Did you think of that?" William leaned in close, his eyes raging as he glared at Arthur. "Can you fix this? Are there any words you can say that will restore my Beth's reputation to her?"

Both knew there were none. It was a mute question, serving to illustrate how important it was for one to think before he spoke.

"No, there isn't," William continued quietly. "So. How do you propose to fix this?"

"Sir, I…" Arthur swayed in his seat. His mind worked furiously, wondering what he could say, what he could do. "A public retraction, maybe?" he asked softly, knowing such a declaration would have little or no effect.

The gossips would continue to speak the stories. To make matters worse, a maid from the Tisdale's employment had come forward that very morning. She stated publicly that on the night that Miss Martin had stayed over at the Tisdale's home, she'd seen William enter the chamber meant for Beth.

The maid was dismissed from service at once. Mary Tisdale - now Mrs. Ferguson, had sent the woman packing the moment the maid opened her mouth. But again, it was too late, the damage had been done.

"A retraction," William repeated softly, then scoffed. "You and I both know how little effect such a move would have."

Arthur was at a loss for words.

"Beth went to great lengths to protect you and your family, Arthur," William ground out. "The letter she sent you warning of the imminent attack was signed anon, but we _both_ know it came from her. And this is how you show your appreciation? By breaking my confidence and destroying her virtue."

"I didn't mean to… to be ungrateful. I feel wretched about it, truly! I wish I could take the words back, I wish I could… I could kick myself! I feel so guilty, she did go to efforts to protect me and mine! She even helped me out with my mother, got her off my back! Sir, I can not tell you enough… I am so sorry. I don't know why I did it and…" Arthur trailed off, his tone was filled with remorse and he stared at his hands as though trying to hold back tears. How mortified he would be, to cry in front of Tavington? That would just be the crowing glory of his misery.

"You're drinking is becoming problematic, Arthur," William said, finally taking pity on the boy.

While he wanted to drub him from one end of Charles Town to the other, the fact remained that this was William's fault, not the boys. William, Banastre and Bordon had introduced the lad to a life of whoring and getting crocked. At the impressionable age of seventeen years, William could not really expect the lad to behave more responsibly. He was well aware the boy idolised him, and William had hardly conducted himself to a standard the boy could - or should - emulate.

He would change that now, he decided. No more carousing, no more whoring. He wasn't ready to give Linda up and he would still take her with him when the battalion moved out, but he would have her instilled in her own tent. And he wouldn't allow himself to get so thoroughly soused in future. If he wished for his men to behave in a certain manner then he must lead by example. Not chastise them afterwards when they failed him.

Besides, it was _William_ who asked Arthur for a discreet place to take Beth. It was _William_ who had taken the girl to Arthur's chamber and it was _William's_ seed the maid had found splattered all over the coverlet.

While he would have liked to place the entire blame on young Arthur, it was, quite simply, _William's_ fault.

"It is clear to me," Tavington continued now, "that the drink loosens your tongue and I can not have you revealing what you should not. I hereby forbid you to drink another drop."

Arthur raised his head, his expression chagrined. William waited him out, waited for the boys response. He was not serious, of course - especially when there was a formal wedding banquet to be held that very evening. Besides when men were forbidden a vice, they always found a way to indulge themselves. It was human nature.

William was merely attempting to gage how remorseful Arthur was. The young Corporal nodded, accepting his punishment. That was what William had been waiting for. The fact that Arthur showed his willingness to accept his punishment without question proved how sorry the youth was.

"Yes, Sir," he said softly, his eyes lowered.

"Arthur, look at me," William said and Arthur raised his eyes. As he suspected, the boys eyes shone with unshed tears. "You, young man, are an exceptional soldier, a credit to the Green Dragoons. You have shown a flare for the military and with nurture I believe you may best even Banastre and myself one day. You will be glorious in the saddle with a pistol in one hand and a sabre in the other."

"Thank you, Sir," Arthur said, slightly assuaged.

"I do not believe you would have revealed what you did, if not for the ale. Some men function perfectly fine drunk - better in fact, than when they are sober. You however, are not one of them," William pierced the boy with a hard gaze, waited for the nod of agreement. "I can not have you getting crocked and revealing what you should not. Be that as it may, I have decided against forbidding you liquor altogether. You have may partake but for the Lord's grace - show some moderation!"

"Yes, Sir!" Arthur said in a stronger voice.

"Very good. You may leave me now, I've been summoned by Clinton and must be away."

Both Officers rose and began to head toward the door. Before they got there, Arthur turned to Tavington.

"Sir," he said softly, still feeling wretched about betraying Beth. "I truly am sorry. I didn't mean to hurt Miss Martin but I know she will suffer the backlash of what I revealed. Is there anything I can do, anything at all?"

"No, Arthur," William said honestly. "Only one thing can save her now, and that is marriage."

"You'll still marry her, ruined as she is?"

William snorted.

"I'm the one who ruined her, boy. Besides, what Miss Jutland tried to tell you was quite true. Miss Martin is still a virgin. And I am a Gentleman. I will marry her."

Arthur's face lit up, he reeled slightly with relief. As soon as the rumours had begun to fly, and knowing it was all his fault, he had worried for Beth's future. He told as much to William now.

"I even told Mamma I'd marry Beth after all," Arthur confided. Then, seeing Tavington's face darken with jealousy, he rushed on, "I know you care for her, I'd never step where you have a claim. It was just the thought of her being snubbed by everyone that made me want to make the offer. But Mamma has changed her mind about me marrying Miss Martin, she flew into apoplexy at the very suggestion."

"Good, because Beth is mine," Tavington scowled. He paused and continued with a frown, "wait - what exactly did Mrs. Simms say?"

"Well, the day after the ball - when the maid told Mamma that there was… 'Evidence of coupling'… Mamma lectured me, thinking I'd taken some strumpet to my chamber. I didn't admit the truth, I allowed her to believe what she believed. But she was nagging me about Miss Martin, you see. She was worried what _Miss Martin _would think if she learned I'd been with a strumpet. Mamma feared that maybe Beth wouldn't want me for a husband. That was when Mamma told me she'd disinherit me if I didn't marry Beth. Of course that all happened before Beth left Charles Town. But this morning, when Mamma learned it was _Miss Martin_ in the chamber all along - with you… Well, she felt duped, I guess. And now her regard for the girl has changed somewhat."

"Has she forgotten that it was Beth's words that protected her family from the damned rebels?" Tavington raged, instantly furious.

"No, but she is speaking more of my 'lucky escape' now, and less of Miss Martin's assistance to our family…"

"And how many people has she been speaking to of your 'lucky escape'?" William ground out.

"Too many, Sir," Arthur replied weakly. He was the one to have opened his mouth about it, after all. "And with the wedding today, she's been speaking to her companions…"

"I shall speak with your mother," William growled threateningly, seeing the danger at once. He had been intending to marry Beth for sometime, of course. And now with her virtue under threat because of these rumors flying about, it was even more imperative he do so. The only way he could help restore Beth's standing in Society _was_ to marry her.

Mrs. Simms position in Society was such that a few well chosen words amongst her peerage could destroy Beth utterly. Not even marriage to the high ranking Colonel would save her then.

"What will you say?" Arthur asked nervously.

"I'll make certain she starts singing Beth's praises, come Hell or high water," William growled. "I'll not have your mother undermine the efforts I intend to make to help Beth. I will _not_ have your mother simply forget the good will Beth has shown your family!"

With that, Tavington marched from the office into the corridor, leaving an apprehensive Arthur behind.

::::::::::::::

As luck would have it, Tavington's meeting with Clinton was brief and to the point, he was only at the Assembly Hall for a half hour. Every moment he was there, he itched to be away for his 'chat' with Mrs. Simms. The banquet would begin in a few hours and William was determined to have his say to the Loyalist aristocrat before she could spread more disparaging comments about Beth.

He strode quickly from the Assembly Hall to the place where he had his horse tied, in the yard around the back. Mrs. Simms would, he imagined, be at her mansion readying herself and changing into the appropriate attire for the banquet. William had no need to change, having already worn his dress uniform to the wedding.

Placing his foot in the stirrup, he prepared to mount when he was suddenly seized from behind. He was pulled back down and whirled about, abruptly coming face to face with his attacker.

"You fucking bastard!" Watson screamed. The Private pulled his fist back and punched William in the stomach with all the force he could muster.

Utterly shocked, Tavington had no time to block. His breath 'wooshed' out of his lungs and he bent over himself, his eyes bulging as he clutched at his stomach.

"You've fucking ruined her!" Watson bellowed, pulling his fist back for another strike.

Instincts kicking in, Tavington responded at once. He drew a sharp breath to fill his lungs with air and raised his arm to block the blow, answering it with a quick jab of his curled fist to Watson's stomach. The Private gasped and staggered back a pace.

Stepping forward, William punched again, an upper cut to Watson's jaw that sent the Private sprawling to his back, moaning and writhing, clutching at his bleeding mouth.

Breathing heavily from rage rather than exertion, William stood over Watson, his icy gaze glaring down at the youth. Before Nicholas could rise, William drew his sabre and planted the tip to the youth's throat.

Watson froze beneath the blade, his eyes widened with fear as he gazed up at the enraged Officer from where he lay flattened to the ground. The sabre was razor sharp, the tip drawing a bead of blood from Watson's adam's apple. Nicholas gulped, then tried not to move.

"You've just attacked a superior Officer," William drawled down at the Private, his eyes cold and hard. He utterly detested the young man, the youth who thought he could court Beth. "What have you to say for yourself, before I have you clamped in irons, hmm?"

"Irons?" Nicholas rasped, careful of the sword tip at his throat. "You've ruined her, Tavington! All those rumours flying about - that you and she… That you… Are they true?"

William smiled a slow, condescending smile.

"Is it true that my _fiancé_ and I spent a very enjoyable time alone together at the Simms ball?" He taunted, amused now. "I hardly see how that is any concern of yours."

Private Watson momentarily forgot the sabre pressed to his throat, such was his incredulity. He gasped and lifted his head, ready to rise, only to suddenly become aware of the sword all over again when it nicked him a little deeper this time. With a grimace of pain, he held himself still.

"Fiancé?" He was absolutely astonished. "You're deluded Sir. She left here to get away from you!"

William's amusement vanished, replaced with violent wrath. Nicholas, seeing his own death reflected in the Lieutenant Colonel's eyes, stiffened and waited for Tavington to skewer him through the neck. After several long, tense filled moments, Tavington calmed himself somewhat, edged himself back from the brink of murder.

"You know nothing of it," he seethed. "Nothing. She has left but she is mine still. We are engaged and we will marry, one way or another."

"What is that supposed to mean, 'one way or another'?" Nicholas asked bravely. While it was tempting to reveal what he knew of Beth's intentions to marry Burwell, just to see the look on Tavington's face, the Commander still had his sword pressed to Watson's throat. Besides, a promise was a promise and he would not betray Beth by revealing her engagement to Burwell out of spite. He would, however, tell Trellim of Tavington's words at the first opportunity.

"Again," William sneered, "it is none of your concern."

He stepped back, easing the sabre tip from Watson's neck.

"Be thankful that I do not have you seized for attacking a superior Officer, boy," he said as he sheathed his sword.

Many other Officers had stopped by now, to watch the spectacle before them. William ignored them, his cold eyes fixed on Watson - he made no move to help as the youth rose. The lad dusted himself off and pressed a hanky to his bleeding neck.

"If you are foolish enough to do so again," William continued, "I will not be so merciful. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Watson said, shooting William a contemptuous glance. "Thank you for your _forbearance_, Sir," he sneered.

"It seems you need a lesson in manners," William said with narrowed eyes. "You are dangerously close to insubordination."

After several deep breaths, Watson managed to compose himself in order to address his superior in a more correct manner.

"Sir," he began in a neutral tone. "I beg forgiveness for my outburst and hope that you will show clemency."

"That's better," William drawled. He eyed the youth up and down and decided, after much inward arguing, that the boy simply was not worth the time and effort. He still had Mrs. Simms to deal with and time was running out. "Next time, boy - you will be whipped and then expelled from the army. Do not doubt it, I can and will enforce this."

"I do not doubt it, Sir," Watson said truthfully. Tavington was well within his rights to do exactly that, based on this attack alone.

"Furthermore, do not question me in regards to Miss Martin. She is no concern of yours."

With that, William turned and mounted swiftly. He whirled his horse, ready to gallop away but he drew rein beside Watson instead. He gazed down at the young man coldly.

"She is mine, boy. Do not doubt that, either," he ground out. "I advise you to forget her."

Watson gaped like a fool and watched in astonishment as Tavington rode from the yard. Several Officers came forward to offer assistance and to berate him for a dolt, for taking Tavington on the way he had. Nicholas ignored them all, shrugging them off and marching through them for his own horse. He needed to get word to Trellim of this development at once.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

The muscles in Tavington's stomach ached from Watson's punch. The wounds he had taken a few days previously at the Falls were stinging like fire now but he didn't think any of them had opened. Seething with fury he kicked his horses flanks, urging more speed from his poor mount.

Attacking him, in the middle of the bloody yard at the Assembly Hall! Questioning him in regards to Beth, doubting his word! They were engaged, whether Beth knew it or not. She would marry him and no other, everything he did where she was concerned was for that end.

And now it had become imperative that the aristocrats of Charleston know she was engaged to him, for it would lessen the damage done to her reputation!

That was how he would help her now, he decided. He would put it about that they were engaged, that she had 'secretly' accepted him before she left Charles Town. The damage would be lessened if people believed he and Beth had merely indulged in a little dallying before their marriage. It was not unheard of, most of their peers had fooled around with their betrothed's. In some cases, the bride was already pregnant at the time of their wedding! Though it was spoken of but rarely and when these antics were made public they were very much deplored.

They still occurred, however, even amongst the aristocracy. And if Beth had the correct support in Charles Town, she may not find herself ousted from Society.

Which was were Mrs. Simms came in.

The short, hard ride to the Simms mansion did nothing to mollify his temper. Dismounting at the broad front steps, he tossed his reins to the waiting servant and trotted up the stone steps, into the mansion proper. After announcing he was there to see Mrs. Simms and that the servant was to summon her _immediately_, he was escorted to the parlor to wait. There, he paced back and forth, his rage increasing by the moment.

Eventually, Mr. And Mrs. Simms came into the parlor to meet him. Both sensed his agitation at once, as soon as he stopped pacing and stood stock still to regard them so very coldly.

"Lieutenant Colonel," Mr. Simms spoke first. "You needed to see us immediately? What can we do for you?"

"I am here to see your _wife_, Mr. Simms," William declared crisply, his eyes fixed on Caroline. Mrs. Simms gulped at his stone hard expression. Sensing this meeting would not be pleasant, she slowly lowered herself to a seat.

"As for what she can do for me," William continued in that same, fury filled tone, his cold gaze piercing hers, "she can damned well remember that Miss Martin warned your family of that plot - at great risk to herself - before destroys Beth's reputation with her disparaging comments!"

Mrs. Simms drew herself up in her seat, though her face reddened with embarrassment.

"Sir," Mr. Simms sat close to his wife. "If you would take a seat, perhaps we can discuss this calmly?"

"I will not be calm!" William raged, taking several steps forward to tower over Caroline. Michael surged to his feet to stand between his wife and the looming Officer.

"Sir, you will distress my wife!" Mr. Simms cried bravely. "Please, I beg of you, be calm!"

William ignored him. Staring down at Mrs. Simms coldly, he continued to berate her. "You dare? After she sent that letter to Corporal Simms, telling him of the pending attack against your family, begging him to keep you safe?"

Mrs. Simms lowered her eyes and swallowed hard.

"This is how you show your appreciation, by defaming Miss Martin to all who would listen?"

"Now, Sir," Mr. Simms said carefully, shifting to keep himself between the two. "Those rumours where true - it was not defamation."

"And yet, the derisive comments will stop," Tavington ground out. "It is within your ability to help Miss Martin keep her integrity intact. You have no other way of rewarding Beth for her efforts in keeping your family safe. Therefore, you will cease these public denouncements and begin showing support for her instead."

Mrs. Simms raised her eyes, meeting Tavington's finally.

"To do so could come at great cost to our family," she pointed out.

"As warning you of the attack could have come at great cost to Beth," Tavington reminded her. "I understand that aligning yourself with a woman others consider ruined could reflect poorly on you. But you have it within your power to alter the opinions of others in this matter. You will do so. Or I will speak with the Commander in Chief about this immediately. Must I remind you that he has taken Miss Martin under his wing? He will be none to pleased to discover your uncharitable words, not after her sacrifice for you and yours."

Caroline drew a ragged breath, her cheeks flushing all over again. Mr. Simms, however, was nodding agreement.

"It will be as you say, Sir," Michael said now. "We have no desire to earn Clinton's wrath, nor do we desire yours. Arthur is a Green Dragoon now, after all." He turned sidelong to his wife, staring down at her with a pointed frown. "Miss Martin did protect our family. If not for her, our own Therese or Alice, or one of our younger sons, may have been taken hostage. Therefore, we shall vilify the rumours to all who will listen and speak only respectfully of Miss Martin."

He held his wife's gaze until Caroline lowered hers and nodded in defeat.

"It will be as you say, husband," she said finally, softly.

"You will have the perfect opportunity to undo the damage, this evening at the banquet," William stated firmly, ensuring they begin immediately. "There will be no more talk of 'Arthur's lucky escape'."

Uttering those words caused William's fury to soar all over again. Something of his rage must have shown on his face for Mrs. Simms quailed and cowered back in her chair.

"No… No - I will say no more of that," she rushed to assure him. "And I will tell my companions that I said those things because I was shocked over the rumours. I will tell them that after much contemplation, I have decided it can't possibly true. I will speak only warm words of Miss Martin from now on."

"See that you do," William growled. "If only you'd had this foresight this morning!"

Mr. Simms, not one to back down in any situation, gathered his courage and stated, "if only you'd had the foresight to not take Miss Martin to my son's chamber. You did those things with her, in my own home, after we discussed the possibility of marrying her to our son! A conversation that _you_ bore witness to! In doing so, you insulted us! Furthermore, her reputation has been compromised Sir, because of you and your actions!"

"I know," William curled his lip with frustration. "I am well aware of that. Of all of it. I regret insulting you, and I regret putting Miss Martin into a situation that can only come to her ruin. But she has shown you only friendship and good will, and for that I must insist you put it all behind you and help me protect her virtue!"

"My wife has already said she will, Sir," Michael ground out, then he muttered, "I need a whiskey."

He turned from Tavington and sauntered over to the side board, pouring himself and the Officer a generous portion. Even Mrs. Simms was handed a smaller glass of the restoring liquor.

"Would you please sit now, Sir?" Michael asked politely. When they were all seated and sipping the fiery liquid, he continued. "You realise that no matter what efforts we go to on her behalf - even if you were to deny it until you were blue in the face - Miss Martin's standing in Society will be lessened? It will never be the same again."

William heaved a weighty sigh, knowing Simms was speaking the truth.

"I will still do what I can for the girl," he said finally. "I merely wish her to be able to hold her head high, and not be completely ostracised."

"Its truly not fair!" Mrs. Simms cried passionately, the single whiskey had gone straight to her head. "That a young woman can face being shunned from Society while the man she dallied with walks free of all blame! You are truly too hard on our sex!"

William frowned. Never mind the fact that Mrs. Simms was herself denouncing Beth only that morning! Now, not only was she defending Beth, but her entire sex! Still, if it would help Beth maintain some modicum of respectability, he would welcome this change of heart.

"Perhaps you should have a few more whiskeys before attending the banquet," he suggested, amused at how impassioned it had made the older woman.

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_A/N - Sorry its taking so long for the updates. I've had sick kiddies and life just keeps getting in the blimmin' way! Also, I'm trying to rework "Love and Betrayal". I know some of you are reading that, so I'll keep you updated. If you haven't read that one yet - don't! LOL_

_At least not yet. So far, I've reworked 6 chapters and I'm really happy with it but I won't post them up until its finished. _

_As for 3 Colonels, I need to be careful now with the future chapters, with foreshadowing and keeping everything consistent, so it will take time. Please bear with me! I'll tell you one thing that you might like about the next chapter - its over 10,000 words long! Nuts, huh? This one was only 5,000!_

_:-)_

_Its mostly been Tavington and Bordon in my chapters lately but thats because Banastre is just riding about the countryside terrorising the locals. I'll cover some of that soon. And Beth isn't doing a hell of a lot out there on the Plantation. Snogging Burwell in dark corners, sitting in the parlor, enjoying family time, crying herself to sleep each night because she loves and misses William Tavington so much... Not much to write home about yet... _

_But very soon, all that is going to change! Mwahahahaha! Evil laughter..._

**_Ms A - thanks again for your review! I feel bad, I know you're enjoying reading this story and now I'm taking forever with the updates! :-) _**


	40. Chapter 40 - The 'Talk'

_**A/N:** I wanted to pop a wee note before this chapter. In my previous authors note, I mentioned that not a hell of a lot was happening with Beth at Fresh Water. Beth must have taken exception to this because I barely got a wink of sleep all night and when I got up the following morning, I began typing up this wee chapter. Its taken me two days to complete and I warn you, its pretty long! I'm a bit nervous about it so I hope you do enjoy it. The reason I'm nervous is because there are a few memory flashbacks, and because Beth and Anne are given a 'talk' by some older women - Charlotte, Mrs. Howard and Henrietta Rutledge. I have made it seem as though the 'talk' is something that occurs regularly, where older women will tell those younger than them, who are about to get married, all about sex. Which is the part that's made me nervous. We are all led to believe that women of that era would NEVER speak of such - it would be beyond improper. But come on - I don't believe it. I reckon that even women back then would've gotten together and discussed sex, if they were in an intimate circle of friends. So I hope you don't find it too implausible!_

_Another thing, something I should have mentioned a while ago. I have been trying to stay true to South Carolina __topography, even going to Google Maps to find actual locations that could work into the story. I know most of the suburbs and townships would be modern, so I've tried to look for names that would date back to the Rev War era. So, in regard to the positioning of my characters - Tavington is in Charles Town. Beth is at Fresh Water, which I decided long ago is near 'Dogwood Pond', and Banastre is currently close to 'Hartsville'. These are actual places so if you are anything like me and like to get a visual on things, go to Google maps, type in Dogwood Pond, SC and it'll come up. _

_You can even go to 'get directions' and type in Hartsville, SC and you'll see exactly where Ban is in relation to Beth. Another thing - and I know I'm being anal now, but 'Pembroke' is actually in North Carolina. Which is so many miles to where I've positioned Beth (at Dogwood Pond) that there is no way that Beth could have made it to church each Sunday in just half an hour. She wouldn't have been able to make that distance in a day by carriage! So I've taken artistic license here, and created a small village of the same name, 'Pembroke' and placed it in between 'Dogwood Pond' and 'Kingstree'. You'll see where Kingstree is if you do go to Google Maps. _

_I like to refer to maps when I'm reading a story - even if its pure fiction / fantasy. If you are anything like me, then get Googling._

_:-)_

_::::::::::::_

**_Tuesday 20_****_th_****_ June - Freshwater Plantation_**

Two carriages trundled their way up the lane toward the manor house. The lead carriage, of simple construction, was being driven by Mr. Peter Howard. Inside the carriage were his wife and daughter, and his son George. The second carriage was far more ornate, with its bright colours and flowery designs painted tastefully on the sides. This carriage was being driven by a slave of African descent and within the cabin sat Mrs. Henrietta Middleton-Rutledge, wife of Mr. Edward Rutledge who was currently residing in Charles Town's jail. Her son Henry was with her, and her maid of course.

Henrietta's face was pallid and worn, worry for her husband was taking its toll. Worse yet, their second born son, named for his father, had taken sick and the illness was lingering. So far the Doctors were doing what they could but none of them bore much hope for the boy. She had left little Edward in the tender care of his nursemaid for the day, simply to get away from all the stress and turmoil. Little Henry - her first born, needed the diversion also. A rambunctious youth, he played quite well with William Martin and so Henrietta, when Mrs. Howard invited her to join them in visiting the Martin's, had taken her up on the offer.

Besides, Rutledge Plantation - where she had retired to when Charles Town had surrendered to the British - was not far from Fresh Water, a mere half hour by carriage. Little Edward had been sick for three months now and she couldn't stay at his bedside forever, or so her friends kept telling her. Although she had spent the entire journey so far worrying about Edward, she admitted she was looking forward to seeing Charlotte again. And Beth, also.

"Look at all the soldiers!" Five year old Henry bounced on his seat in a fit of excitement, his head and shoulders sticking out of the open window. "They continentals?"

" '_Are_ they Continentals'," Henrietta corrected her son patiently. "And yes, dear heart, they are."

Henry continued to voice his excitement, waving frantically at the troopers as they past the many tents but Henrietta's gaze was on the house at the end of the lane - why Mr. Martin built such a tiny house when he had so many children, she had never been able to understand. The Martin's weren't quite as wealthy as her own families - the Middleton's and the Rutledge's, but they _did_ have wealth! The Martin family home sported eight bedchambers which was a respectable amount, she supposed. But her own home dwarfed theirs by comparison, with its twenty chambers and all round balcony.

Mr. Benjamin Martin never had been one for such outward expressions of wealth, however.

Why, poor Beth hadn't even started wearing silk dresses until she came to Charles Town and her Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Mage took her under their wings! Thinking of Mage now made Henrietta melancholy all over again. The two women were blood relatives, cousins, sharing a common great grandsire. If it were not bad enough that her husband was in jail, now her own cousins were under house arrest, with Green Dragoons living in her home! Henrietta shivered, she couldn't think of anything worse than being forced to tolerate the presence of those detested British soldiers in her own home!

_And_ she'd recently discovered that Michael and Marcus Middleton - more cousins of hers, had joined the Green Dragoons! Their branch of the Middleton family had always been a little odd. Their father - yet another cousin of hers, had always been a bit strange. And he'd always had Loyalist leanings, but _this_! Blood relations of hers, serving the British!

It was a disgrace to the Middleton name!

Finally the carriage pulled to a stop at the front of the small manor house. Olvi, her driver, hopped down and opened the door, helping his mistress step out of the carriage.

Henry was right behind her, bounding out of the carriage in search of young William and his older brothers. Anne, her mother Alice, her brother George and Mr. Howard were milling around their carriage, waiting for Henrietta to join them. She and her maid caught up to them and together they rounded the carriages and began walking toward the house.

And there, waiting on the steps, were Charlotte Selton, Benjamin Martin, and his three daughters. And Colonel Harry Burwell, also. The sun beat down on their backs, Henrietta could already feel beads of sweat trailing along her spine and beading her forehead despite the broad hat she wore. They would be inside in the relative cool soon, she knew. With cordial or tea, scones and cakes. And fine company, which was the most important part.

Charlotte and Beth greeted the guests warmly, embracing each one in turn before ushering them inside. Henrietta turned to look for Henry, but he had already taken off toward the river with a laughing William. Samuel, Nathan and Thomas were following also, so the young mother set her fears of her son drowning aside and followed the others into the house. Henry had fallen into the stream at Rutledge plantation so many times and he'd never been worse for wear. Besides, with Thomas there, the boy would be fished out in no time should anything untoward happen.

Now sitting in the surprisingly spacious parlor - the companions began to exchange pleasantries.

"Were there any problems on the way over?" Benjamin asked Peter, who shook his head.

"No, but you know that Tarleton is drawing closer by the day," he replied, then pinned Harry with a firm look. "You know, you might want to consider moving on soon - his force is much larger than the one you have stationed here."

"I am aware of that," Burwell stated. He was sitting beside Beth on the chaise, holding the girls hand lightly. "But I have already decided to stay put for now. I'll not charge off and risk encountering him on the roads when he might not even intend to come down this far. Besides, I at least want to remain for long enough for the second Bann to be announced."

He shifted his gaze to smile warmly at Beth, who returned the smile.

"Yes, he's not allowed to leave until then," Beth informed Peter. "So stop trying to convince him otherwise, Mr. Howard. Besides, Ban - ah, that is to say, Tarleton," Beth blushed crimson at her slip - almost calling the British Lieutenant Colonel by his first name! None in the parlor knew much about her friendship with Banastre, they certainly had no idea that he was in love with her. She cast a quick glance at the women, none seemed to have picked up on her slip. "Tarleton is many miles from here yet. Harry is getting missives almost twice a day, informing him of the Raiders movements."

"Yes, I am, and we are ready to move on the instant if necessary," Harry confirmed. He shifted his gaze to Henrietta. "How are you Mrs. Rutledge? I know it must be a stressful time for you, what with Edward in British custody."

"Its been a trial, for certain," Henrietta replied. "And my little boy - Edward, he is ill - did you know?"

"No, I did not," Harry frowned, showing his concern. "Is it serious?"

Henrietta began to describe Edward's symptoms and detail just how serious the illness was. It was clear to the companions that the young mother was fearful and worried for her son. After a while, Mrs. Howard turned to Beth - hoping to brighten the mood and distract Henrietta from her troubles. That had been Alice's purpose in inviting the woman in the first place, to give the fearful mother a respite from her woes.

"Miss Martin, is that your engagement band I see on your finger?" She asked her.

"It is," Beth smiled and held her hand to show off the simple gold ring.

"Oh, its lovely," Alice gushed, leaning in closer to inspect the ring.

"It is beautiful," Anne agreed. Just then, Gabriel appeared in the doorway and Anne blushed crimson. She had just been imagining a similar band on her own finger, given to her by the very man who now filled the doorway. Gabriel greeted them all tentatively, but his eyes were on Anne.

"Join us, Gabriel," Charlotte called and Gabriel removed his hat, crossed the room and sat beside Anne on the chaise. Peter and Benjamin exchanged a quick, knowing glance. Benjamin, who knew his children well and understood that Gabriel would most likely be quite embarrassed under the companions scrutiny, began to speak of crops and the like, to draw attention away from the blushing couple.

After partaking of a cup of tea and some delicate cakes, the men made their excuses to the women. George, Gabriel, Peter, Benjamin and Harry all rose, bowing politely, then quit the parlor. Peter had information that he had to pass on to Harry, and so the men left the women to it.

As soon as the parlor doors closed behind them, Mrs. Howard began speaking in hushed tone.

"Oh, you will never believe that is happening up near Harstville, with that Banastre Tarleton. I do hope he doesn't come down this far - to Pembroke or the Dogwood. Sweet Lord, its horrid!"

Anne had heard it all before but Beth saw her friend pale, her fingers twitching on her lap.

"What things?" Henrietta asked.

"Terrible things. First they attacked Captain Huddy in his own home - poor Mrs. Huddy was beside herself with terror by all accounts! Those Raiders threw rocks through all of the windows, then opened fire! Huddy and Rollins defended the house for a whole hour, until one of Tarleton's men set the house alight and Huddy was forced to surrender. Rollins got away, but Tarleton took Huddy captive."

"Oh, sweet Lord!" Charlotte gasped and pressed a hand to her throat.

"No, no - he's fine," Mrs. Howard rushed to assure the women. The Huddy family lived miles away in the Smallwood but they were acquaintances all the same, seeing one another regularly in Charles Town and at organised events on the Santee. "The Patriot militia - those in Huddy's unit, fought a skirmish with the Raiders, freeing Huddy. But now the militia is disbanded!"

"No!" Henrietta gasped. "Who will protect us from the Raiders when they come this way?"

"Well, Burwell is here," Charlotte frowned worriedly. On several occasions in the last few days, Burwell himself had stated that he was outnumbered.

"Why have the militia disbanded, do you know?" Beth asked now. She was having a difficult time imaging Banastre attacking a house, firing on the occupants inside. Especially as Mrs. Huddy had been there - the woman had two small daughters!

"Well, that is because Tarleton is going from town to town, village to village, farm stead to farm stead, burning his way across the Santee!" Mrs. Howard declared. "He is destroying public granaries, destroying cattle so those in north Santee have no food to eat! He has this proclamation, you see. Cornwallis' Amnesty. If any Colonial who served in the Patriot militia under Francis Marion comes forward to serve the Crown, they will receive a full pardon."

"They want our men to turn coat?" Henrietta asked, aghast.

"Yes, and worse yet - some are taking him up on the offer. But many of Huddy's militia have simply returned to their homes in the hope of defending them. Most of them are pretending as though they had been home all along, that they had nothing to do with the militia. Tarleton has believed some of them and has left them along, but quite a few homes have been fired. And the women -"

She paused, glancing delicately at Beth and Anne, who were the youngest women in the room. Anne was eighteen years old and Beth was to have her twentieth birthday in only another week. Still, she decided to continue, for the girls would learn of the horrors of war, eventually.

"Quite a few women have been… Defiled," Alice said and the other women's eyes widened with astonishment.

"No," Beth breathed. "Surely Tarleton would not authorise such a thing!"

"Thats right, you've met the man, I keep forgetting," Charlotte said. "He might have been friendly and charming toward you, Beth, but I can absolutely believe this. The British are known for their brutality, after all."

Beth frowned, she simply could not believe it.

"Its all too true, I'm afraid," Alice said gravely. "Mr. Howard believes that Tarleton is trying to inspire fear amongst the Colonials - those who will not join the British and fight for them. He is committing these atrocities to dissuade others from joining the Patriot cause. And so Patriot women have indeed been raped, at least five of them that we know of."

Beth hung her head, feeling sick to her stomach. The vision of Banastre, holding a woman down and forcing himself on her came unbidden, she couldn't rid herself of it. Banastre's face changed to William's and she wondered if he, to, would order these horrible actions. If William had ever partaken, himself.

"Does Tarleton…" Beth swallowed, almost afraid to ask but she had to know. "Does he… Has he attacked these women personally?"

"Not that I've heard tell of," Mrs. Howard said gently. "It can't be easy, if you have indeed met the man yourself. I do not know if he as committed the crimes personally, but Miss Martin," she paused now and pinned Beth with a significant gaze. "Whether he does it himself or not makes no difference. He is the Commandant and he is authorising his men to rape those poor women."

Henrietta and Charlotte nodded sharply, both in agreement. Even if Banastre hadn't raped a women himself, he had commanded his men to do so - the blame could only be laid at his feet.

"Lets change the topic, shall we?" Anne said now, feeling quite sorry for Beth. The two women had seen quite a bit of each other since Beth's return, and Beth had confided much of what had happened in Charles Town to her younger friend. Anne had known of Beth's friendship with Banastre Tarleton and could only guess at her friends turmoil now. "I don't want to linger on such a horrible subject myself."

"Nor do I," Charlotte murmured.

"Very well, lets discuss marriage," Alice smiled at Beth. "Have you and Colonel Burwell set a date, Miss Martin?"

"No, nothing is agreed yet," Beth said weakly, still dwelling on what she had been told. "Though I would like to be married sooner rather than later. I don't think Papa wants us to marry too quickly because he doesn't want me to leave here when I've only just returned."

"With this war raging," Henrietta mused, "and with you being engaged to a soldier, I imagine it would be prudent to wait."

"Wait?" Beth frowned. "You mean, in case Harry dies?"

Henrietta paused, then nodded reluctantly. "Anything could happen, is all I'm saying. It would be best to wait."

"Well, I don't want to," Beth shook her head. "If anything were to happen to Harry, then I'd rather be married to him so I can be at his side."

"You could be a widow only a few months after you're married," Henrietta pointed out gently.

"If that is to be my fate," Beth replied in a small voice. "But Harry has survived so far! He's fought in plenty of wars and…" she trailed off, her argument sounded silly even to her own ears. One stray bullet was all it would take to end Harry's life, no matter how experienced he was in warfare. She continued softly, "I want to know my husband…"

"Oh-ho!" Alice began to laugh. "And so we come to it at last!"

"Come to what, Mamma?" Anne asked with a frown. "What in the world are you laughing for?"

"It has come to the 'talk', my dear," Alice replied, sharing a look with Charlotte and Henrietta. "We all received such talks from our mothers and older, married friends, though I admit it won't be easy to discuss it with you, my daughter."

"It won't be easy for me, either," Charlotte put in quietly. "Beth is my niece after all."

"Perhaps I should tell them," Henrietta offered.

She had received the 'talk' as well, and far more recently than the widow Charlotte or the much older Alice. The 'talk' - of men and pleasure and babies. Of course these girls knew that babies would come after coupling with a man - they were not so sheltered as that. But what the girls _didn't_ know was how much pleasure one could have, while trying to _make_ the baby.

It was not spoken of in polite society, not generally. But in a small, cosy gathering such as this, talk _always_ turned to men. Women let their hair down and began discussing - in some detail at times - what occurred in the bed chamber. If they did not, then girls like Beth and Anne - they would have no clue! They would live in terror of their wedding night, for it was no secret that when a woman allowed a man to enter her for the first time, it _hurt_!

How shocking would it have been to see Edward naked for the first time, if Henrietta had not been warned before she'd married him? She would have frozen up and cried for a week, at seeing his manhood for the first time! Many women of their standing refused to discuss it, but Henrietta felt it was a necessary part of preparing young brides, as she had benefitted from the same preparations. And even though she'd been mortified at the time, she'd been grateful for the 'talk' on her wedding night!

Charlotte and Alice nodded primly and Henrietta suddenly found herself at a loss. How did her own married friends begin the 'talk' with her? She could barely remember now!

"I need a drink first," she suddenly giggled. Alice smiled her understanding.

"I'm certain Mr. Martin won't mind if we take a few sips of his whiskey," she whispered conspiratorially. Charlotte laughed and rose from her seat, she measured out five small portions of the fiery liquid and handed them out to the other women - even to Anne and Beth.

Henrietta did not begin until the glow of the third small glass of whiskey began to suffuse her. By then the other women were giggling and laughing, all of them made a little silly by the whiskey.

"Ahem," she called boldly, tapping the side of her glass with a spoon. The _tink, tink, tink_, sound silenced the other women, but they all wore silly smiles and the occasional giggle escaped their lips. "Now, the time has come, my Ladies, to discuss our 'first time', if you take my meaning!"

"Oh, no!" Beth and Anne collapsed in each others arms, giggling nervously.

"I shall begin, as I promised I would," Henrietta said. "And I shall start by telling you that…" she paused for effect and the other Ladies hung on her every word, "that is was absolutely divine!"

The warmth of the whiskey and Henrietta's declaration caused all five of them to begin laughing all over again.

"Oh, so was mine," Alice confided. She seemed to have lost her inhibitions, no longer prim over speaking of such things in front of her daughter. "Though I'll admit to you all now - we got started _before_ we were married!"

"Mother!" Anne cried, aghast.

"Oh, hush you," Alice admonished. "Do you remember when young Gabriel came to stay with us, and we sewed him in that sack to ensure no 'funny business' took place?"

Anne nodded wide eyed.

"Well, I'll tell you now - I'm better at sewing than my mother ever was!"

This was met with another round of giggles. Beth was incredulous, Alice Howard seemed so respectable! And she was at least fifty five years old - the oldest amongst them! But here she was, telling them all, that she and Mr. Howard… That they… Oh, it was too much to even imagine!

"Now now," Alice held her hands up for silence and the other women began to quiet. "I was a virgin on my wedding night, I assure you! But I was no frightened doe by the time we did marry, I tell you that!" She giggled then continued, "if anything, I was as eager as Peter was!"

Anne groaned and dropped her head in her hands, Beth placed her hand on Anne's back, rubbing soothingly. The whiskey had quite gone to all their heads, however, and Anne eventually sat up to listen eagerly to Charlotte's account.

"Mine was… Well.." Charlotte paused. "I did have the 'talk' as well, though John and I never indulged before we married."

"Nor did I," Henrietta admitted.

"Prudes," Alice muttered, pouring out a fourth glass for the ladies.

"Alice!" Charlotte laughed her protest. "As I was saying, we did not get to 'know each other' in that way before we were married. I was nervous as most brides are and I admit it was not as enjoyable for me, not that very first time."

"Why?" Beth whispered, on the edge of her seat for more.

"Well, I was not… I was a virgin and therefore it did hurt that first time. But John was careful and considerate - he took his time. Still it _hurt_. However, when I became…" she coughed delicately and took a sip from her glass. "When I became… _used_ to him, pleasure certainly did follow!"

"Whats it like?" Anne asked, made daring from the whiskey. The other women exchanged glances then began to laugh again, and Anne blushed crimson.

"Perhaps I'll put Gabriel in _two_ sacks, next time he comes to stay," Alice murmured.

"Its like…" Henrietta became both wistful and thoughtful at once as she searched for the right words. "A tingle, a tension, which builds and builds."

This sounded familiar to Beth, who became lost in the memory of experiencing such sensations with William. She missed the pleasures he had awoken in her, almost as much as she missed him. She choked back a sob, covered it by raising her glass to her lips. The other women noticed nothing, to her relief. Surreptitiously dabbing at her eyes, she tried to push thoughts of William from her mind.

"It keeps building and then… Oh…" Henrietta smiled. "A pleasurable ache that you just want to keep feeling."

_"Oh... William. Oh... It feels... so... Oh..."_ Beth remembered her whimpers, her pants, the pounding of her heart as William's fingers circled and circled her hardened womanhood while he kissed her so thoroughly, so completely. Despair rose inside her and she had to fight not to begin weeping right there in the parlor.

"Its so warm," Henrietta continued to describe the feelings.

_"Oh my God! Oh, William!"_ The tension had built and built, just as Henrietta described now. William had moved to lay on top of her at this stage, his hard bulge pressing against her quim.

_"So good,"_ he had whispered. The mere memory of his words, his husky voice, his warm breath against her ear, made her shiver now. _"Wrap your legs around me."_

"An ache?" Anne asked somewhat fearfully, distracting Beth from her thoughts. "It hurts?"

"Yes, but in the most lovely way," Henrietta smiled.

"That doesn't make sense," Anne muttered.

It made sense to Beth. Her cheeks flushed and her heart pounded, she was caught between listening to the conversation now and living through the memory of what had happened in Arthur's chamber.

_"Oh William, it aches..." She whispered. "It aches, but.. oh, it feels so wonderful."_

_"Lord, I know!" His lips crashed against hers, nipping while he moaned._

Beth closed her eyes and let the memory wash over her. That ache was building between her legs now but anguish pierced her heart, deep and searing.

"It all sort of rushes forward," Henrietta was saying. "All at once and spreads through your entire body…"

_The feeling was overwhelming, the tingly warmth became a throbbing blaze. Her body was in a frenzy of movement, her legs gripping his waist, her fingers clutching his wrists, her body writhed, yearning for release._

_"Yes, my darling," Tavington rasped as he watched her, he moved more frantically, delighting in her moans. "Your first climax, come for me, my little Beth. I want to see you lose control - come for me!"_

_Demanding now, though Beth barely heard him, lost to the wonderful feeling, the quest for more. She urged him on, lowering her legs from his waist, she planted her heels into the bed and lifted herself up hard against him._

"It sort of lifts you." Henrietta said softly.

_Beth held her breath and suddenly it was there, the release her body was questing for. She arched her back and keened, it was so much more than she could have imagined. It flowed through her in surges, carrying her. Her entire body began to float on waves of heat and pleasure._

_Tavington, still watching her through his glazed eyes, gloried at the sight of her, as he gave her her first climax._

_"Mine!" he gasped against her ear as he thrust along her, drawing more from her. "You are mine, now. Mine!"_

_She nodded. "Yours," she rasped. _

"Please, excuse me," Beth whispered now, rising from the chaise. She stuttered out an explanation as she backed toward the door. "The… the whiskey… I need to… to relieve myself…"

"Hurry back dear, theres more to tell yet!" Alice called, lifting one arm above her head and waving lazily, as Beth closed the parlor doors.

_Oh my god, _Beth thought now as she stumbled up the stairs. Tears blurred her vision but she made it to her bed chamber, closing the door firmly behind her.

_I'm his. His! And I always will be. _

Crying in earnest now, she collapsed on top of her bed and clutched at her pillows. After a short while, she felt the bed shift and then someone was stroking her hair. Beth didn't have to open her eyes to know it was Mila.

"I m-miss him s-so much," she wept.

"I know," Mila said softly. Out of all the people in South Carolina just then, Mila understood best of all. Her own heart ached for her Zeke, she understood exactly the pain that Beth was feeling. "I know, dear one," she continued soothing her friend, curling up beside her to take the weeping girl into her arms. Her own tears blurred her vision, and the two clutched at each other, weeping their heart break.

::::::::

"What bought this on?" Mila asked softly. She was reclined against the pillows, with Beth's cheek pressed to her breast, still stroking Beth's hair. They had both quieted by now, though the shared heart ache remained.

"They were speaking of… Of coupling, downstairs in the parlor," Beth replied woodenly. "Henrietta began to describe how it feels to couple, the pleasure of it. It bought back the memories of feeling the same with William."

Mila was the only one Beth had confided _everything_ to, she was the only one who knew that Beth and William had touched one another. When Beth confided of her time in Arthur Simms bedchamber, Mila herself opened up and told Beth of her times with Zeke. Only Mila had done much more with Zeke, and had been fearful that she might be pregnant. Her mensies had come on just that morning to her - and to Beth's - vast relief.

"It all came back," Beth whispered. "The way he touched me, how wonderful it all was. His kisses… I love him, Mila, so much."

"I know, dear heart," Mila murmured.

"He claimed me that night," Beth continued. "He was so possessive, even in that short time, but I felt it too, you know?" she raised her head and met Mila's dark eyes, finding nothing but understanding and compassion. "No one else would understand this. Only you."

"No one else needs to," Mila said wisely.

"Why does it have to be so hard? I understand why its necessary to marry, to have a strong husband and so I welcome this marriage. I care for Harry, I do. But I'll love William until my dying day. I swear, I'd marry him in a heartbeat if he arrived here at this very moment."

"It can never be," Mila said softly, giving Beth's shoulders a squeeze. "You said so yourself. He's ever so mad at you, he must know you betrayed him. You'll only be safe if you marry Burwell, who will take you to camp, far away from here. Won't Tavington flog you, if he ever finds you?"

_"Listen to me very carefully now, Beth," He whispered dreadfully. "I promise you... As the Lord is my witness I vow, that if I ever discover you warned Burwell," he paused when she shook her head violently. Ignoring her protest, he continued implacably. "I will beat you myself. Do you understand? I will flog you, Beth, to within an inch of your life."_

Beth shuddered at the memory, his voice - so dreadful and filled with fury and threat, his pale blue eyes boring into hers.

"To within an inch of my life, he said," she confirmed sadly.

"Do you really think he would?"

"I don't know," she said weakly. "He's certainly capable of doing it but perhaps his temper has cooled by now…"

"I doubt it, not for something like that," Mila said, referring to Beth's betrayal.

"You're probably right," Beth sighed heavily. She sat up and perched on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.

"Lets get you tidied up, the others will be wondering where you got to," Mila rose from the bed and began fixing Beth's hair. "You'll have to make up some excuse."

"No excuse needed - I'll tell the truth," Beth said and Mila's eyes widened with shock. "That the whiskey went straight to my head and I needed to lie down, because the room is spinning."

"Is it?" Mila asked, amused. Beth nodded and Mila giggled, then led the way out of the room.

When Beth stood outside the parlor doors, she drew a deep, steadying breath, then entered.

"Oh, thank the Lord, I'm saved!" Charlotte cried when Beth walked in.

"You'll not get off so lightly as that!" Henrietta laughed. "You will answer the question, Charlotte Selton."

"Where were you?" Anne asked, swaying slightly in her seat. Beth noticed her friend was having trouble focusing her gaze.

"I… the whiskey… I needed to lie down," Beth said as she sat beside Anne.

"Oh, good idea - I need to lie down too!" Charlotte rose but Alice - strong despite her years, reached out and grabbed Charlotte's arm, pulling her back down. Charlotte giggled, her cheeks were bright read with embarrassment.

"Do you or do you not have a lover?" Alice demanded and Beth gasped.

"Oh, its been so shocking Beth," Anne began to fill her friend in. "The things they've been saying and now Mrs. Selton let something slip by mistake and Henrietta - and Mamma - they won't let it go! They are convinced your Aunt has a lover!"

Beth's eyes widened with shock and she started at Charlotte, who reddened further under the scrutiny.

"Tell us!" Henrietta demanded.

"Oh, god, why did we decide to have the 'talk'!" Charlotte lamented. Finally buckling under the strain, she pinned each one with a hard stare. The effect was ruined somewhat, as Charlotte swayed slightly in her seat, her eyes were red-rimmed and unfocused, and her cheeks were flushed. But she tried to be stern with each of them. "This goes no further, and I'll not tell you his name. But yes, I do have a lover."

"Aunt Charlotte!" Beth cried as the other women crowed with delight.

"I knew it!" Alice declared. "Oh, tell us who -"

"Absolutely not!" Charlotte said decisively, waving her arms in the negative. "I draw the line there!"

"But… we're not supposed to… outside of marriage!" Beth burst out, shocked to her core. Her Aunt was so dignified and graceful, her conduct had never before been bought into question. She herself had instructed Beth these past four years, she was the one who filled Beth's head with the need to keep her respectability and her virtue!

"The rules are somewhat… loosened, for widows," Alice explained. "As long as the widow is discreet, of course."

"Oh," Beth said rather lamely. She shared a shocked glance with Anne, who seemed to be struggling with this news also. She had been raised the same as Beth, to believe a woman didn't couple outside of wedlock. It was not the done thing. Ever. Period.

Beth met Charlotte's eyes then, her Aunt's were clouded from the liquor but also filled with worry that she had lost some of Beth's regard.

_William drew back to watch her, to revel in the pleasures he was showing her. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, short breaths puffed from her parted, swollen lips. She pushed her hips up against his fingers. Holding herself rigid, she clutched at his arms, her body taking on a life of its own._

_The tension built as high as it could go. She moaned a long, quiet moan - the tension became white hot pleasure, starting beneath his fingers it exploded, warm and thrilling. It flooding through her body, floating her on those wonderful waves for eternity. Seconds only it lasted but Beth felt it had lasted a life time. Coming to herself, she touched her lips to his again, still moaning softly as the waves carried her._

_Before too long, it ebbed and waned, fading until all that was left was a wonderful warm, relaxing glow. She began to breath again, slow, deep breaths in Williams mouth. She still clutched at his arms as thought returned to her._

_"Ohhh," she murmured and swallowed. Her chest rising and falling, she drew back and stared at him with wonder. "Oh..."_

_He smiled down at her as he drew his hand away from between her legs. He pried her fingers loose from his arm and lowered her hand back down to his lap, to wrap around his length again._

Beth returned to the present once more. Charlotte's eyes - filled with wariness - still held hers.

_Oh, yes, Beth, you're one to talk,_ she chastised herself as the memory continued to play out in her mind - of her curling her fingers around Tavington's erection and pulling, pulling, pulling until he cried out and coated her hand with his seed. _You've never been married and William is not even your fiancé! _

"I think I need another whiskey," she muttered darkly, reaching forward for her glass which was on the small table before her. "And then, Aunt Charlotte, you will tell us more about this lover of yours."

Charlotte relaxed slightly but Beth thought she still seemed rather tense. Alice and Henrietta both laughed, clapping like excited girls, eager to hear more.

::::::::::::

"Shh, is that a horse?" Thomas waved his arms at the younger boys, commanding them to silence. The boys had grown tired of playing by the river and had headed to the edge of the property, close to the road, where they hoped to surprise the rabbits in the burrow Nathan had found the day before.

Sure enough, the _clip, clop, clip clop_ of a rider drew closer and Thomas, excitable as always, jumped from the bushes out onto the road to see who it was.

He stopped dead with shock when he came face to face with a Redcoat soldier - a mounted British Officer.

"Woah!" The Officer called, twitching the reins and guiding the startled horse with his knees. When the mount was under control, he glanced down at Thomas, meeting the youths eyes. Thomas gazed back, wide eyed with fear. "Christ boy, you almost scared me half to death!"

The Officer didn't seem particularly angry, nor did he appear ready to change into a monster with huge teeth, ready to rip Thomas' head off. The boy relaxed somewhat, as his brothers and Little Henry made their way out of the bushes.

"Oh, its an ambush!" The British Officer laughed as the lads revealed themselves. The boys exchanged confused glances, shocked that the Redcoat seemed so normal.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Thomas said finally, hesitantly. "We were playing here. When I heard the sound of your horse, I wanted to see who it was."

"Well, its me," the Officer smiled. "Private Crawford at your service," he doffed his helmet, even gave Thomas a small bow from the saddle. "Although at the moment you could probably be of more service to me than I could be to you. Tell me, do you know where Fresh Water Plantation is? Am I far off, still?"

Thomas stiffened. Luckily his brothers understood the danger and they held their silence, not blurting out that the soldier had already reached Fresh Water and if he continued on for another forty yards, he'd arrive at the gate! Luckily the tall tobacco plants hid the plantation from view - more importantly, it hid Burwell's many tents from view. But if the Officer were to ride up the lane, he would see the Continental presence instantly.

"Ah, yes, Sir. I am from Fresh Water myself," Thomas said truthfully, then he began to lie. "But you are far off yet, Sir. Miles even."

The Officer's eyebrows rose with surprise. "You're a little far from home then, aren't you?"

"I was visiting Nathan here," Thomas pointed to his brother. "He's my friend, you see. He lives here."

"Oh, I see. How vexing, I was led to understand I was closer. Miles, you say?" the Officer seemed somewhat dejected. "I've been in the saddle for hours already."

"Well, I'm from Fresh Water, as I said, perhaps I can help you?" Thomas asked carefully. "What is your business there, if I might ask?"

"I am to deliver a letter to one Miss Beth Martin," the Officer replied, then continued hopefully. "Do you know of her?"

"She's my sister, Sir," Thomas confirmed.

"Oh, wonderful! Will you be returning home this evening, lad?"

"I will."

"Then I can give you the letter, will you see that your sister gets it?" The Officer reached into the saddle bag beside him and pulled out a small leather packet. Thomas nodded, he would deliver the letter.

"Ah, can I ask who its from, Sir?" Thomas asked, fearing it was from Tavington.

Beth had not spoken to him about it but he'd heard the whispers, heard his father and Burwell discussing the British Officer. He'd even stumbled across Abigale - the families nursemaid and her daughter Mila talking about it! They'd stopped as soon as they saw Thomas but he'd heard enough to know that Beth and Tavington had become entangled romantically in some way and that his sister now feared the enemy Officer. He didn't entirely understand what had occurred, but he worried that the letter being sent might be from Tavington and would, therefore, cause his sister great distress.

"One Miss Mary Tisdale," the Officer said now, answering Thomas' query. "Its a good thing the roads are so peaceful out this way, I'd not have been able to deliver this letter to your sister so quickly otherwise. Her friend only sent it yesterday."

"Oh, well lets hope it stays peaceful, so Beth can keep getting her letters," Thomas said a little lamely. He realised how stupid the words were as soon as he said them but he was too shaken to think clearly just at the moment. The Officer only smiled at Thomas' seeming innocence, however.

"Yes, let us hope," he replied genuinely. "Well, I'll be on my way then. If I am quick enough I might made it back to Manning before nightfall. There's a nice inn there."

"Don't eat their beans," Samuel said, speaking up for the first time. "They're yuck."

"Boy, beans are _always_ yuck," Private Crawford laughed. He'd turned his horse and was now facing the way he'd come. "Thank you, young man, you've saved me quite a bit of time if Fresh Water is miles away yet. You've done me a service."

"You're welcome," Thomas called, waving, as the Officer galloped back down the road. "Jesus, that was close," he cursed softly. "Quickly, we must go and tell father, and Colonel Burwell!"

:::::::::::::::

"It stands to reason that Miss Tisdale would entrust her letters with a British courier," Burwell was saying gravely. "Her fiancé is a Green Dragoon now, or so they think."

"Yes, but this does present us with problems we hadn't considered before," Benjamin replied worriedly. "Beth has many friends in Charles Town who will write to her, not just Miss Tisdale. Miss Rebecca Middleton and Miss Sarah Wilkins - both of whom will use British couriers."

The two men were standing on the verandah. Thomas had run up, panting and frantic, and handed Benjamin the packet not five minutes ago.

"Do you want us to move on, in case we're discovered by a chance British courier?" Burwell asked - the offer was a sincere one, kindly meant.

"No, no," Benjamin waved his hand. "No - but perhaps it would be prudent to shift the tents so they aren't visible from the lane?"

"Theres an empty field on the other side of your cornfield, near the Dogwood," Burwell mused, pointing to the East side of the property. "Can't get any more invisible than that."

"Yes, that would be perfect."

"I'll have them wear their day clothes as well, instead of their uniforms."

Benjamin nodded, his fear beginning to recede. Any courier approaching would be coming from the main road in front of the house, and they would come down the lane, to the house and leave the same way. The cornfield was close to the house, but it was deep and sprawling, and the corn was almost at its full height. A person could not see beyond the field unless they were on the roof of the house.

"I'll ensure the troops don't come near the house unless absolutely necessary," Burwell was saying now, an extra precaution, "we don't want to arouse suspicion by having too many men - who are clearly not your workers - seen by any Redcoats."

The Colonel scowled then and Benjamin sighed heavily.

"We should have anticipated this, as I said. Beth was popular with her friends," he glanced down at the leather satchel in his hand. "With Miss Tisdale most of all."

"At least we know we can trust the letter," Burwell said darkly, "seeing that its come from Ferguson's fiancé."

"Yes, I'll take it in to her now," Benjamin replied. Burwell followed and as the two men entered the house they could hear giggling coming from the parlor. When they entered, the women froze guiltly, all of them. Benjamin frowned, then took in their reddened cheeks, their red-rimmed eyes, the way they swayed in their seat.

The glasses of whiskey around the room and an almost empty bottle on the table.

Benjamin and Burwell both stared down at them, shocked. The women gazed back, each wearing guilty expressions.

Then Beth turned to the other women and held one finger over her lips.

"Shh," she whispered conspiratorially. "Its my Papa and my fiancé."

For some reason, this set the women off. They burst with fits of giggles, tears streaming down their cheeks.

"I'm afraid theres… no hiding it… now..!" Mrs. Howard gasped between giggles.

"They're soused!" Harry exclaimed as he watched them.

"So it would seem," Benjamin murmured. Turning, he spied Mila as she was about to walk up the stairs. "Mila, would you put this in Beth's room? Its a letter from Miss Tisdale but I doubt she's in any condition to read it now."

"Yes, Sir," Mila took the packet and headed up the stairs. Benjamin turned back into the room. Sure enough, the women were still cackling, Beth was almost lying across Anne's lap, laughing too hard to sit up straight.

Or too _drunk_ to sit up straight… Benjamin had never seen anything like it! Nor had Burwell, judging by his astonished expression.

"Help me, will you?" Benjamin said. "I'll get Charlotte to her room, you get Beth to hers."

"Alright."

"Thomas!" Benjamin bellowed for his son. "Go fetch Gabriel, Mr. Howard and George. They need to get Miss Howard, Anne and Mrs. Rutledge upstairs to a chamber were they can sleep this off."

Thomas darted away in search of Gabriel and the others.

"Beth," Harry called, standing over Beth.

He placed his hands on her waist and helped her from Anne's lap to sit straighter. She was still giggling, tears streaming down her cheeks. He shook his head and chuckled indulgently - he'd been this soused on occasion himself. Though he'd never expected his fiancé to ever be in such a state! He helped her up and led her from the chamber, all the way upstairs to her chamber.

"My poor darling," he sighed heavily as he led her across the room to her bed. The door clicked shut behind him but he wasn't too worried about propriety just then. "You're going to pay for this tomorrow."

"Don't you… Don't… threaten me, Colonel… Harry Burwell," Beth slurred, she was having difficulty stringing her sentences together. She waggled a finger at him, pointing it under his nose. "You're… not my husband yet!"

Burwell barked a laugh. "I'm not the one who will punish you, dear heart."

"Who then?" she squinted her eyes, trying to focus on his face, and swayed back and forth. "Papa?"

"No, my Lioness. The whiskey."

"No thanks, I don't think I want… any more… whiskey."

Burwell sighed and gave up.

"You sleep now, my sweet," he said, turning to go.

"Wait!" Beth cried, reaching for him. All those memories of Tavington, washing over her making her heart ache, the remembered pleasure, making her ache elsewhere. She became bold, gripping his wrist with her curled fingers, dragging him back to her. "Stay."

"I can't stay!" He laughed down at her. "Your father would kill me."

"Just for a minute?" She begged. "You've not kissed me today."

"I did kiss you today," he reminded her. "In the barn, remember?"

He sat beside her and she leaned in close, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her lips to his ear.

"Oh, yes, the barn," she whispered huskily in his ear. "I enjoyed our time together in the barn…"

Burwell closed his eyes and swallowed, unable to control his reaction to her. His heart began to race as the tip of her tongue traced the shell of his ear ever so gently.

"You taught me that," she whispered, her tongue continuing that moist, warm caress. "It feels ever so delicious."

She drifted down, her lips suckling at the skin of his neck, her arms around his waist squeezing tightly.

"Yes, it is," he murmured, his voice deep and rasping. He could hear voices in the corridor outside the room, Peter's deep rumble of amusement as he led his wife to a spare chamber, Gabriel's astonished tone and Anne's bright laugh. It was not even midday but Burwell had no doubt the women would sleep for the rest of the afternoon. He sighed heavily and turned to meet Beth's lips.

"You taste of whiskey," he whispered, his tongue tracing her lips.

"You taste of… you…" Beth smiled at him. "I think I like whiskey."

"You won't in the morning," he chuckled. "Dear heart, I really must go, before we begin things we can't stop…"

"Hmm, Mrs. Howard, Mrs. Rutledge and Aunt Charlotte were telling Anne and I all about those things," Beth said, drawing closer to press a feather light kiss on his lips. "I can't wait until we're married, so I can feel them too."

Harry's breath caught and he closed his eyes, counting inwardly to ten in an effort to control the searing lust spiking throughout his body.

"You've gone so ridged, Harry," she murmured, against his lips, feeling his sudden tension. Removing her arms from his waist, she wrapped them around his neck instead. "Relax my darling," she said mischievously. "I'll try not to hurt you."

"Oh, Christ, exactly what did those women tell you?" He shook his head with incredulity.

Beth placed two fingers under his chin and turned his face back to hers. They began to kiss again, Beth parting her lips, gliding her tongue into his mouth.

"Do you really want to know?" She whispered. Her eyes were glazed with pleasure, both from the whiskey and from the kissing and the feel of his strong body pressed so close to hers.

"Yes," Harry found himself saying, hypnotised by her tone, so thick and husky, sensuous - wanton.

"They spoke of the pleasure that builds and builds," she said softly between kisses. "It keeps building, the tension. A pleasurable ache, so warm, so encompassing."

_I've felt it before and I want to feel it again, _Beth thought, despairing and needful.

"Oh, God," Burwell whispered, utterly entranced. He placed one strong hand on either side of her face and deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing across hers.

"It rushes forward," Beth whimpered, squeezing her legs together. Burwell saw this and groaned deep in his throat. "And spreads through your whole body." She finished, her hips rocking back and forth ever so slightly as though trying to relieve her own tension. Harry saw that as well and he thought he'd die then and there.

"Have you ever felt that?" She asked him innocently. He gazed down at her, her brown eyes so deep and beautiful, her face cupped securely in her hands.

"Yes, Beth," he rasped, swallowing hard. "I have."

"Can we -"

"No," he said firmly, trying to sober. With a huge effort of will, he gathered himself and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently urging her away from him.

"Harry," she whimpered, looking so lost, her eyes filling with tears.

"I know what you want, darling," he told her seriously. "But I can't give it to you, not yet."

He rose from the bed and her eyes followed him, her head tilting back to gaze up at him. Her unshed tears cut him to the bone.

"Your Aunt and the other women, they were wrong to tell you so much," he said, turning to face her. His hands cupped her face again and he leaned down to kiss her one last sweet kiss. "Especially after giving you so much whiskey.'

"Its not the whiskey," she said truthfully. Though the liquor had fired her even more, she had been aching for days. Aching for the pleasures William had shown her.

"Nevertheless, we'll wait, dear heart," he said, knowing that there was no point arguing with a drunk person. Kissing her again, he barely noticed when her hands stole up to unbuckle his belt. She did it so slowly, without so much as a sound. When he did notice, he broke the kiss, glanced down at her fingers holding either side of his unbuckled belt, and began to chuckle.

"I'm not going to be able to keep up with you, my lusty fiancé," he said warmly. "I'm too old."

Beth giggled as Burwell straightened. Still standing before her, he placed his hands on his belt ready to buckle it again.

Which is the exact moment that Benjamin chose to walk into the chamber, to check on Beth. The door opened wide, Benjamin strode in, then stopped dead. Burwell's hands were on his unbuckled belt, Beth's fingers were now hooked in the top of Burwell's breeches where she had placed them while Harry was distracted.

"Its not what you think!" Harry yelped, jumping back from Beth, who almost toppled forward off the bed.

Benjamin stared, his eyes wide with astonishment and shock and… and… he barely knew _what_ to think!

"No?" He snapped. "Do tell me, what _am_ I to think - with your belt buckle open and my daughters hands in your breeches?"

Beth gazed between the two, caught between drunken amusement and mortification.

"Its the other women - its their fault, Ben! They put all these ideas in Beth's head and she wanted…" Harry cut short, suddenly remembering who he was speaking to. He could hardly tell Benjamin that his daughter had become aroused - aflame with desire! No father wanted to hear their little girl was actually a woman!

Beth's eyes were as wide as they would go now, she held her breath, waiting for her father to murder her fiancé.

"Papa -"

"Silence!" he snapped cutting her off at once. His eyes were fixed on Burwell's but he threw his arm out in her direction, stabbing his finger at her. Beth stared at his accusing finger until she was almost cross eyed.

Harry waited, every bit on edge as Beth, despite being a Colonel of the Continental army. Despite being Benjamin's own Commander once, so long ago. As the silence dragged on, Benjamin stared at him - clearly uncertain if he should be calm or raging.

Harry finally tried for levity.

"Don't worry, Sir," he said in a mock contrite tone, bowing low toward Benjamin. "I'll do the right thing by your daughter," he tapped his lips as though pondering and then, as if he and Beth were not already engaged, he announced, "Hmm, I know - I'll marry her!"

Beth's giggle broke the tension.

"Damned right you will," Benjamin huffed an angry breath. He glanced toward Beth who was still giggling where she sat on the bed. "Christ, what was Charlotte thinking, giving Beth whiskey? And Anne - have you seen what state she's in?"

"And Gabriel was putting her to bed, wasn't he?" Beth gasped. She imagined Anne, drunk from the liquor and aroused from the 'talk', she pictured Anne trying to pull Gabriel into her bed, much as Beth had tried to with Harry. She giggled and continued in a taunting tone, "Ooh, Papa, you better put Mr. Howard's musket away!"

"Jesus!" Benjamin cursed, understanding Beth's meaning at once. He turned and strode from the room, leaving the door wide open. "I'll be right back - this discussion is not over!" He called over his shoulder, his voice fading as he walked up the hall.

Beth almost toppled onto her side, she laughed so hard. Burwell watched his drunk fiancé in the throws of laughter, wiping her tears - of mirth now. Whiskey could have that affect on people - making them happy and content one moment, howling with laughter and then at the depths of despair the next.

Benjamin returned quickly. "Its alright, she's in the same bed with Mrs. Howard and is already sleeping."

"What of Mrs. Middleton?" Harry asked, his eyes lingering on Beth, whose laughter had died to the occasional giggle. Her eyes were dazed and she wore a silly smile on her face.

"She's settled as well," Benjamin replied. "Charlotte is in bed. Christ - its not even lunch time yet!"

"Today was so much fun," Beth said wistfully, swaying where she sat. "The things we spoke about… You can't even imagine!"

"Oh, I have a fairly good idea," Harry scoffed quietly.

"Honestly," she continued, her eyes wide with incredulity, "who would have thought a man could be strong enough to lift a woman up against a wall, then take his hands away, but still hold her against the wall while they -"

"Beth!" Benjamin and Harry cried out at once, cutting her off.

"Its not my fault!" Beth defended. "It was Mrs. Howard who said it. And did you know she and Mr. Howard -"

"We don't want to know!" Benjamin waved his hands before him, silencing his daughter again. "What the Devil were those women filling my little girl's head with?"

"Its alright, Papa," Beth said in a placating tone. "We were just having the 'talk' and _all_ women get the 'talk' from older, married women before they get married. Its… ah…" she searched her drunken mind for the right word. "Custom! Its custom." She smiled up at them, proud of herself for thinking of the right word.

Then she nodded once, curtly, as though everything was explained to their satisfaction and it was settled.

"Custom," Benjamin muttered darkly. "I'll tell Charlotte what I think of this 'custom' tomorrow, you can be sure of that!"

"Agh, its not so bad, what does it hurt to prepare a girl before her wedding night?" Harry argued.

Benjamin rounded on him at once.

"Your belt buckle was undone and her hands were in your breeches!" He said indignantly. "I'd say there was plenty of harm done!"

"Well," Harry mused for a moment, "perhaps it would better if they had this 'talk' of theirs _without_ the whiskey."

"Oh, no - it was so much more fun with the whiskey!" Beth said emphatically. "Especially when Mrs. Howard told us the story - oh how we giggled - it was the story of how Mr. Howard escaped the sack Mrs. Howard's mother had sewn around him to keep him from visiting her bed chamber during the night before they were married!"

"No more!" Benjamin cried, though even he was seeing the amusing side of it now. "Burwell - get out of my daughters room now!"

Harry smirked. He strode forward to plant a chaste kiss on the top of Beth's head and she smiled up at him beatifically.

"Sleep well, dear heart," he murmured, then walked from the room, closing the door behind him.

"Hmm, I think I _am_ sleepy," Beth said, yawning and stretching.

Benjamin sat beside his daughter as she shifted on the bed until she was laying down on her side, her head on the pillow and her eyes already closed. He reached down to pull her shoes from her feet and placed them on the floor.

"Are you alright, Beth, do you need to be sick?" He asked her, stroking her hair gently. Beth smiled with contentment and shook her head no - she didn't need to be sick. "The rooms not spinning?"

Another shake of her head, she was fine. Benjamin watched her for some time. The smile eventually faded from her lips, he could see she was almost asleep. And still he stared, despairing that his little girl was almost full grown and would leave him soon. She would marry Burwell and move to camp and Benjamin had no idea when he'd see his little girl again.

He sighed heavily and leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek. She wasn't quite asleep after all, she shifted and her contented smile returned.

"Love you," she muttered.

"I love you too," he said gently.

He stepped out of the room, leaving his daughter in peace to sleep the whiskey off.

:::::::::::::::

It was late - night had fallen and Beth's room was lit by candles and lanterns. She was in her shift now, having woken up earlier - long enough for Mila to help her undress and change for bed. Mila had bought a tray of food to Beth's chamber, and Beth had eaten every bite and drank every drop of the water too.

Mrs. Middleton, Mrs. Howard and Anne had long since left Fresh Water for their one homes. Henrietta had climbed into her carriage looking decidedly green, as had Alice and Anne. Peter Howard had scoffed when his wife begged for sympathy, telling her she'd bought it on herself.

Charlotte was in her chamber, in her bed, with a cold compress across her forehead. Margaret had been asking why the women had all taken ill. An empathetic, child she had been quite worried for them all.

A small smile quirked Beth's lips as she remembered some of the things she'd been told by the older women. The whiskey had loosened their tongues, rid them of their inhibitions. It was doubtful they would have been as forthcoming as they had been - far more so than they'd intended for something as simple as the 'talk'. The different ways of pleasuring a man, for example. Beth was still incredulous that any of those fine Ladies had knelt before their husbands and pleasured them with their mouths! She was even more incredulous that those same fine Ladies had admitted it to her and to Anne!

Beth's stomach ached from all the laughter, it had been the most fun she'd had in days! She remembered the moment that all of them had been in hysterics, and all because Beth had asked if they thought that Mary would do the things the older women had described. Giggling uncontrollably, she'd painted the picture of a newly married Mary kneeling before Colin Ferguson.

Poor Mary, Beth thought now. She hadn't meant to be disrespectful toward her friend, it had only occurred to her because Mary was the next of their acquaintances who would be getting married. Mary would soon be experiencing many of the things the older women had told Beth and Anne about. Beth hoped fervently that Mary had been given the 'talk', though it would not have come from Vera Tisdale, who had left Charles Town in disgrace.

Thinking of Mary now and Beth suddenly remembered the packet that had come earlier. The delivery of which had caused an uproar, though Beth had slept through it. Mila had told her later however, of how Burwell's detachment had decamped and shifted from the front of the property to further back, beyond the tall cornfield, near to the Dogwood itself. In case any more British Officers stopped by with letters for Beth, from her Charles Town friends.

Beth hoped there would be more letters, she missed her friends terribly! But it wouldn't have been worth it to receive those letters if the British got wind of Burwell's presence at Fresh Water.

Grabbing up the small leather packet, Beth climbed back into her bed, reclining back against her pillows and getting comfortable under the quilt. A wall lantern above her head cast enough light down for her to read by. Opening the packet, she pulled forth a thick velum envelope. The thickness and weight of the envelope made her smile with pleasure - this was not to be a simple or quick note but a nice long letter, hopefully filled with news of Cilla and Mage, her friends and Charles Town gossip.

When she opened the letter however, she was surprised to see another sealed envelope had been placed within the first. With a curious frown, she pulled forth Mary's parchment and the separate envelope - which, curiously, bore no address or salutation. She flipped it over, reading the words _Miss Beth Martin_ written neatly across the front.

Beth drew in a sharp breath. Her face drained of colour and her hand holding the envelope trembled. She recognised that handwriting, having received a note from William once before. All she could do now was stare at her name - written by his hand - with horror, her heart pounding furiously against her ribcage.

The note he'd send to her after they first met - declaring his infatuation for her and his intention to visit again - was tucked safely away in her diary along with the rose he'd given to, plucked from one of Mage's rose bushes.

She knew instinctively that the letter in her hand now would not hold such warm words, such declarations of affection. She swallowed hard and slowly lowered William's letter, placing it beside her. She couldn't face it - not yet.

Her other hand still gripped Mary's parchment but her earlier joy at receiving it had vanished. A sick feeling curled her stomach and fear traced her spine, her mind was on William's letter for the entire time she read Mary's.

Mary began her letter with an apology - William had frightened her to near insensibility and while she would have preferred to defy him and not send his letter, she had been too scared. She spoke of her wedding, which was to take place 'tomorrow', on Tuesday 20th. Beth guessed that as it was late in the evening of Tuesday 20th now, Mary would have been married that very morning and was probably enjoying her wedding banquet at that very moment.

Her friend spoke of Cilla, Mage and Mark, that they were so far unharmed though Mary had not been allowed to see them. Mary wrote that she, Rebecca and Sarah all missed Beth. She ended her letter with another apology, a warning that Tavington's words could not be trusted and finally - advice - that Beth should throw the Officer's letter into the fire, unread.

Beth lowered the parchment to the coverlet and gingerly picked up William's letter. Throw it into the fire…

Tempting…

But although anxiety threatened to overwhelm her, she knew she could not destroy his letter. It represented her most recent link to him and she had missed him too much to rid herself of it now. She _had_ to read it, even if his words were not to her liking. Swallowing hard, she tried to work moisture back into her suddenly dry mouth as she broke the seal on the envelope and pulled forth his letter with trembling fingers.

It was clear from the the moment she began to read that he had written a direct response to the letter she written - the letter of farewell she had left with her Uncle before departing Charles Town.

::::::::::::::

_Dearest Beth,_

_To say that I am enraged would be an understatement. As if your abrupt departure were not enough to earn my wrath, my suspicions have been confirmed and I know now, beyond on a shadow of a doubt, that you did indeed betray me. If you believe you've escaped me, then you, my dear, are sorely mistaken. There is unfinished business between us and I will not rest until it is resolved and settled to my satisfaction._

::

Already Beth had to stop reading, had to take a break. Panting with near panic, she could almost see his pale eyes flashing, his fury filled face blazing above hers. Even the tone of his writing, she could almost hear him speaking the words in his cold, fury filled voice. She'd hoped against hope that he would leave her be but from this opening line alone, she knew that he never could. This was confirmed when she finally plucked up the courage to continue.

::

_Firstly, I will address your departure and that detestable letter you left for me in your Uncle's care. I recall to you now, your request that I do not follow you to the Santee, that I let you live your life in peace. This request I __resolutely__ deny you. My God, Beth - what an utterly selfish thing to ask of me! _

_What of __my__ future happiness? You take yourself away, giving no thought to the pain it would cause me! And then you ask that I do not come for you? That I allow you to marry some wretch so you might spit him out a litter of children, leaving me to live the rest of my life alone, with this pain, this affliction? _

_I hardly think so. _

_It is not a sacrifice I am willing to make. You are mine, despite the miles between us, and I will not rest until you are again at my side. _

_As for my 'carousing ways', they ended long ago. I do not spend so much at the gambling tables that we would be destitute in a few years, even with assisting my family financially. What an insulting thing to suggest - I do have an income of my own after all! And the promise of rewards for my service in this damnable war! You dare to suggest I wouldn't be able to provide for you?_

_You accuse me of 'breaking you' and 'destroying you'. You cite my affairs as the ultimate reason for your leaving. 'The death knell', you said. _

_Beth, you foolish girl. Do you honestly imagine that my bedding of those women - of Linda Stokes - comes even __close__ to your betrayal? I will word this letter carefully in case it falls into the wrong hands, but I have no doubt you know precisely the betrayal I am writing of. Treason, against King and Country. How does that compare with me bedding other women when you and I were not so much as engaged? Even if we were married at the time - and I can not stress this enough - being unfaithful to you with other women would not be equal to __your__ betrayal. _

_And now, because I spoke that vow to protect you come what may, I am forced to commit treason also. It is reprehensible to me, I am forced to betray everything I believe in, to save your neck. _

_But I have reconciled myself to this and I will keep my vow, I will not reveal your betrayal. But my silence on the matter, and my protection, will come at a price of my choosing. The reckoning I demand of you, is your hand in marriage. You will be my wife - or you will answer for your treason to Clinton himself._

::

Beth's eyes bulged and her jaw dropped. She'd been reading the letter at full tilt, her heart pounding with every word read. But now she could do nothing but gape. Sweet Lord - he was blackmailing her! Marry him or he'd tell Clinton the truth! What the Hell sort of marriage did he think they would have? And if she refused…

"Would he stand there and do nothing as they put the noose around my neck?" She asked herself aloud, utterly astonished. "If I refused to marry him?" shaking her head with incredulity, she ploughed on reading.

::

_Do not think you have escaped punishment, for you have not. I can not, in all good conscious, let your betrayal go unanswered. I already warned you what your discipline would be. The chastisement will not be to within an inch of your life of course, and I will ensure it is done in private, no one else will learn of it. But there will be a reckoning, you can be certain of that. You will be disciplined for your treason by a British Officer._

_Once it is done, we will marry. When the pain has faded, you __will__ put is aside. You will be a Loyal wife, I will suffer no less from you than your full allegiance. _

::

"A forced marriage, absolute allegiance _and_ a flogging? Oh, this keeps getting better and better!" Beth cried incredulously as she read.

::

_Christ Beth, how could you do this to me? How could you just up and leave me? I love you so much, don't you have the slightest inclination of the pain this is causing me? __You've left me cold and empty, I can't sleep, I can't eat. __You are on my mind every waking moment and you invade my dreams when I do manage a few moments sleep. _

_What I wouldn't give to have you in my arms at this very moment, to kiss you, to touch you. To hear your moans again as my fingers move between your legs. I want to feel your soft hands on me again, I've never climaxed so strongly in my life as I did with you! I feel like a man starved, I am ravenous for you._

_I've been swinging wildly from madness and grief at losing you, to fury that you left me. I am in such turmoil, I hardly know if I should love you or detest you for causing me this agony._

_I hardly know myself how I will react when I see you again. I do not know if I will feel so elated that I'll take you in my arms and kiss you, or if the very sight of you will fill me with such rage that I'll beat you with the flat of my sabre. Both images hold great appeal, both would be equally satisfying to me. _

_What I do know for certain, is that we __shall__ marry. I will not be balked in this. I am in love with you, despite your protestations and stubborn disbelief, and I will not be denied you! As far as I am concerned, you and I are already engaged. I shall come for you and we shall say our vows when I take you from your father's plantation. _

_Do not test my patience, Beth; you are to respond to this letter favourably at your earliest convenience, concealed in your return letter to Miss Tisdale. If there is one thing you can be certain of, it is my fury, my rage. Keep that in mind when you word your letter, my little Beth. A strong woman you might be, but I will accept nothing but complete submission from you now. _

_I am, dear Beth, your most affectionate and devoted lover,_

_Lt. Col. William Tavington_

::

Beth slumped back against the pillows, drained. Wrung out like a damp cloth. Dazed - she couldn't form a thought just then for love nor money.

The parchment was held limply in her fingers on her lap, her gaze lingering on the words William had written. The letter was so full of contradictions, he'd had obviously been fully enraged when he'd written it. It was filled with threat, yet his longing came through clearly. He loves her, yet he hates her. He wants to kiss her, but he wants to beat her. With the flat of his sabre, no less.

After he'd administered his punishment in the form of a flogging, they'd marry. And then what? Live the rest of their lives happily - in peace? Did he truly expect her to forget the beating, simply because he commanded her to?

And, she was to offer him complete submission… She was to give him absolute allegiance - she knew what that meant. If she was his wife, he would not allow her to even _think_ of herself as a Patriot.

Oh, and the fury! Yes, his fury had come through with almost every word he'd written… He'd been angry with her before, they had had a few confrontations when she was in Charles Town. It was so easy for her to picture him at his writing desk, his body stiff and tense, his lips tight, his face set and hard. His eyes… they'd be so cold, narrowed and rage filled.

But then at the close of the letter…

_I am, dear Beth, your most affection and devoted lover._

Beth laughed aloud, an incredulous laugh, it helped to released her tension. It helped to lessen her fear. He was deranged, thats what! Deluded! Jumping from rage, to love, to despair back to rage!

"He's going to come for me," she said aloud.

Ever since she and Charlotte had left Charles Town, it had been the families fear that Tavington would come for her. Now she knew for certain that he intended to.

Picking up Mary's letter again, she began searching for the section where her friend had detailed the Green Dragoons intentions to leave Charles Town for Winnsboro. To Beth's relief, Mary had written that the Dragoons would not be leaving for another three weeks or so. They would be stationed at Winnsboro under Cornwallis' authority while Clinton headed for New York.

So. Three weeks - a month at best, before William would be anywhere near the Dogwood. In all likelihood, she'd be married by then. And if she wasn't, then as soon as they got wind of the Dragoons approach, she could probably slip away to Henrietta Rutledge's plantation or to the Howard's home in Pembroke.

Relief flooded through her, and she threw back the coverlet, jumping from the bed. She crossed the room to draw her night-robe around her shoulders. It was still early, her father and Harry would still be awake, enjoying a nightcap before retiring to their chambers. She needed to tell them immediately that she had received confirmation of Tavington's intentions.

But a worrisome thought suddenly occurred to her, just as she placed her hand on the door knob, ready to step out into the hallway, causing Beth to stop dead in her tracks.

"Harry will want to see the letter," she whispered with realisation. Merely telling Harry would not be good enough. And her father would want to read it too.

_What I wouldn't give to have you in my arms at this very moment, to kiss you, to touch you. To hear your moans again as my fingers move between your legs. I want to feel your soft hands on me again, I've never climaxed so strongly in my life as I did with you! I feel like a man starved, I am ravenous for you._

Shit. A cart full of stinking, steaming shit.

She couldn't show her fiancé and her father William's letter. She strode back to the bed and picked up the parchment, hoping there was a way she could erase that damning paragraph. But she knew she could not - there was no way. She could not even blot the paragraph out with ink and tell Harry that she had received it that way, for no Gentleman in his right mind would send a letter in such a state. If he had made an error that required a section to be removed, he wouldn't paint over it with ink, he would painstakingly write the letter out again. Harry and her father would know instantly that she was trying to conceal some of William's words from them.

Which meant she couldn't tell them of the letters existence at all.

Beth dropped heavily to the edge of her bed, now at a loss. It had felt so good to have a plan! To go to her powerful fiancé and her father, to tell them their fears were now confirmed, to seek solace in their strength and wisdom! But now…

"Its not as though they aren't aware of the danger," she mused now. "They will have a plan in place, ready to deal with it. And of course, I'll probably be married and far away from here in any case…"

Feeling slightly more relaxed, Beth climbed under the coverlet and stared at the ceiling. All will be well, she tried to tell herself. She'd just have to bear the worry and fear, the anxiety, alone. But it would all be fine.

No matter how she tried to reassure herself however, sleep evaded her. When the light of dawn eventually brightened her room, she climbed out of bed without having slept a wink.

::::::::::::::::

A/N: so there we are, my longest chapter yet, and the long awaited letter - some of you have asked about William's letter to Beth. Its another thing I'm uncertain about in this chapter so please drop me an email or review, to let me know what you thought, pretty please? I want to know if it was too heavy handed, not heavy handed enough, did the anger show through or did it need more. I'd love to read your opinions! I've gone back and changed aspects of the story before, when someone has given constructive criticism, stating that some scene or other could be stronger. I won't be offended, you'll be helping me to write a better story.

Ms A - Thanks for understanding and for your compliments! Yeah, Tavi needs his arse handed to him on occasion, but I can't think of any who would best him in a fight. Bordon maybe, and Banastre... But not Watson, poor guy was on his back with Tavi's sword pressed to his neck within moments of starting the fight! Because Tavington is just that good. Hehehe. :-)


	41. Chapter 41 - The Banns are Published!

_A/N: Just a warning, there's a rape in this chapter, alluded to but not described. You know its happening, however, in the background._

**_Chapter 40 - The Banns are Published, Far and Wide._**

**_Wednesday, 21_****_st_****_ June - Hartsville_**

The Raiders horses kicked up dust, their hooves sounding like thunder. It could be felt as a rumble through the earth and the denizens of Hartsville heard the Dragoon unit approach long before they saw the Green coated men themselves.

Tarleton and Hanger led the unit, as they always did. Banastre had left the bulk of his legion in the camp he had established not far from Hartsville. For this particular raid, only the Dragoons themselves were needed.

He signalled the halt when he was deeper in town, with buildings to either side of him. Pulling to a stop, he glanced around at the locals who had stopped under the shops eaves, to gaze at him and his detachment fearfully.

Good. Word was spreading.

His Dragoons milled about him - some two hundred men, all mounted and wearing their emerald jackets with their tan buckskin breeches. Each wore a sabre at his side with a pistol in a holster attached to his thigh. They were an impressive sight as Banastre damned well knew. Impressive. Fearsome. Intimidating.

And most importantly, deadly.

He gazed back at the denizens from the vantage of his saddle, meeting the eyes of women clutching their children to their chests or pulling the older ones closer to their sides. The men urged their womenfolk closer, huddling together. Some children even began to cry - sensing the tension. Others gazed up with open and curious faces, one brave little boy even pointed and said "horse!" in a loud voice.

"Yes, horse," his mother agreed, meeting Banastre's eye - here was one woman who was not so fearful. Nervous, yes, but not scared. A Loyalist perhaps? It was so hard to tell - one never knew if a Colonial was a Loyalist or Patriot by just looking at them. Banastre edged his horse closer and tipped his helmet to the woman, revealing his dark shock of auburn hair.

"Good morning," he said in a polite tone that belied the Dragoons deadly purpose. "Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton at your service."

"Good morning, Sir. Mrs. Baker at yours," came the answer in the back country southern drawl. Which, he was coming to notice, became far thicker the further he journeyed from Charles Town. He was certain that if he went any deeper into the Santee, he would no longer be able to understand the good folk of the South.

"Mrs. Baker," he inclined his head politely and replaced his helmet on top of his head. "Would you tell me, please, where I can find _Gillard's Mercantile and Wool_?"

"Yes, Sir, just a little further down. You will find him two doors away from the blacksmiths, which you can't miss."

"Thank you. Madam. I've heard some rumours. Could you also tell me if Mr. Gillard is a Patriot and if he is involved in supplying the Continental army?"

"Ah…" Mrs. Baker cast a nervous glance at her clustered neighbours, who watched gravely. "I'd rather not say, Sir. If you don't mind too much."

Banastre nodded indulgently. The woman clearly feared retribution and seeing that Banastre would not in a position to offer her protection - he would not be remaining overly long, he decided to let the matter drop. Her evasion gave him all the answer he needed, in any case.

"Thank you very much, you have a nice day," he bid her, inclining his head down at her.

"You too, Sir."

"Wanna ride the horse, Mamma!" The little boy yelled, his voice growing more frantic as Banastre turned his mount. "Mamma, _horse_!"

"Yes, I _know_ its a horse and _no_, you can't ride it!" The women replied. Banastre smiled at her over his shoulder, then continued on his way with his Dragoons falling in behind him.

The Mercantile, it turned out, was almost on the other side of the small town. As Mrs. Baker had instructed, it could not be missed - only a few doors away from the Smithy. Banastre and his two hundred Dragoons drew rein outside the shop. There were even more people here. Seeing the Dragoons outside, men and women came spilling out of the shop, suddenly deciding there was someplace else they rather needed to be. Anyplace else than within the shop the ten score of deadly Dragoons had stopped in front of.

"Circle around," Banastre commanded of first Lieutenant Whitty. "Surround the shop."

He let the locals flee, he had no interest in them just now. It was the mercantile's owner who he had business with just then.

"Very good, Sir," Lieutenant Whitty took two score of troops with him and headed around the back of the shop. Banastre, Hanger and several others, dismounted and strode into the Mercantile.

A few locals were still in the shop - holding baskets loaded with items they obviously intended to purchase. Only now they stared in stunned silence as Banastre strode in, the items in the baskets all but forgotten. Banastre took one look at the frightened customers and dismissed them at once. Glancing around, he discovered no sign whatsoever of the owner - Mr. Gillard.

"Upstairs," Banastre commanded shortly and the men strode purposefully toward the back of the store, to the stairwell. Without hesitation, they trotted up to the next landing where the family lived and began searching rooms.

"Oho!" Hanger called from one of the chambers. Banastre, who had been in the corridor at the time the call was raised, turned on his heel and darted into the chamber. An Office, as it turned out. Complete with a large oak desk and several high backed chairs, and with Mr. Gillard - who was currently being held by the scruff of his neck by Ensign Mitchell and Second Lieutenant Bell.

Major Hanger was still pulling forth the last of the large, leather bound books from the fireplace, adding them to the pile. Though tendrils of smoke wafted from the ledgers, and they were charred and blackened in some places, they were still mostly undamaged. Gillard had not had much warning of Banastre's approach, after all.

"He was burning these," Hanger kicked at the stack of smoking ledgers.

"Its a little warm for a fire, wouldn't you say?" Banastre quirked an eyebrow toward Gillard. To drive his point home, he ostentatiously raised a handkerchief to his own forehead to dab away at the beaded sweat there. Gillard quailed with fear at being caught red handed.

Striding forward, Banastre squatted before the pile of ledgers and, picking one up, began leafing through.

"You're about as smart as a bag of rocks, aren't you?" He asked up at Gillard. "Why in the world would you keep this evidence?"

"I've done nothing wrong, Sir!" Gillard cried. He twisted, trying to break free of the Dragoons hold but they were far to strong from him.

"Sir," Whitty - the officer Banastre had sent to guard the rear of the shop - entered the office to make his report to Tarleton. "We caught Mrs. Gillard and her daughter trying to flee the store."

"Her daughter?" Banastre quirked an eyebrow. "How old is she?"

"Eleven or so, Sir," came Whitty's reply. He knew Tarleton well enough to know the Officer would balk at harming such a young girl.

"Too young," Banastre twisted his lips with distaste, confirming Whitty's thoughts. "Keep her separate from the others, downstairs. But bring Gillards' wife up, take her into one of the back rooms."

"Yes, Sir." Whitty, understanding the meaning behind Banastre's order, stepped back out into the hall.

"What for?" Gillard demanded, struggling even more in his captor's grips. "Don't you dare touch my wife."

Banastre gazed up at the rebel for several moments, before continuing to leaf through the ledgers.

"Who is Peter Howard?" He asked. The name was scribbled several times in one of the columns, often appearing next to 'Colonel Burwell'. "Another rebel?"

"What are you going to do with my wife!" Gillard roared. He surged forward, despite the Officer's iron hold. Banastre rose gracefully and pulled his pistol from the holster on his hip.

"Punish _her_ for _your_ treason," he explained calmly, gripping his pistol firmly. Gillard turned his gaze to the open door in time to see his wife being dragged past. She met his gaze and began screaming at him to help her. There was nothing he could do, however, caught as he was. Mrs. Gillard's frantic screaming could be heard, muffled now, coming from the closed bed chamber down the hall.

"Jesus Christ!" Gillard twisted and pulled but he was unable to break free. "Please!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Cornwallis had sent the Lieutenant Colonel to the Santee to inspire fear amongst the Patriot community in the South. To do this, Banastre was required to do far worse than burn a few public grain storehouses. Mrs. Gillard's screams became more frantic, Banastre could clearly hear her pleading and crying. Tarleton held Gillard's gaze, entirely unmoved. He had been hardened to this over the last four years, it was just another tool - another weapon to cause terror and dissuade others from joining the Patriot cause.

"Who is Peter Howard?" He repeated dispassionately.

"You fucking bastard," Gillard panted. Sweat beaded his brow, his expression was dark, murderous. "You'll pay for this."

"Very well, you had your chance," Banastre shrugged. He would discover the information for himself - he had all the ledgers, after all and he was certain they would reveal many rebels - associates of Gillard's. From these ledgers, he would be able to form a list and begin targeting active rebels directly. "Hanger - find out who young Miss Gillard's nearest relation is, take her to safety. The rest of the shop is to be searched. These ledgers are to be removed, I will read them back in camp. When the men are finished with Mrs. Gillard and she is safely outside, fire the mercantile. Mr. Gillard, we shall hang."

Hanger nodded. With one last glance at the spluttering rebel, he left the office to see about Banastre's orders. Mrs. Gillard was quiet now, though Tarleton knew her ordeal was far from over. Most women grew quiet and withdrew into themselves when they realised their pleading went for naught.

"Lobster back bastards," Gillard whispered futilely, sagging in his captors grip.

"Eloquent," Banastre arched an eyebrow in disdain. "You are in rebellion, Sir. You have committed treason against the Crown. Shall I list your infractions? You have funded the rebel war effort. You have supplied the rebels with food, clothes, arms and ammunitions. Most importantly, you have provided them with Intelligence. These actions will not be tolerated gently, as you are now discovering. You have lost your livelihood, your wife has lost her virtue and you Sir, are about to lose your life."

"Please, just stop hurting Glenda. I'll tell you everything - just… stop…" Gillard hung his head, he was broken now and Banastre knew it.

"Very well," he agreed. As he headed to the door to stop the rapes, he threw over his shoulder, "but do not think to defy me. If you do, Mrs. Gillard's trauma will begin anew."

He stepped into the hall way. There were three Dragoons waiting outside the bedchamber, waiting their turn. Which meant the first Dragoon was still occupied with Mrs. Gillard. Only rarely did he unleash more than four Dragoons on any given rebel woman. In this case, however, he was willing to bargain with Gillard to get the information he wanted more easily. Whether Mrs. Gillard was raped by one Dragoon or all four was of no moment, it would still terrorise the locals.

He ordered the waiting Officers to enter the room and stop the attack. That done, he returned to the office and began questioning Mr. Gillard at length. The rebel held nothing back, he was too fearful now. His brief flame of bravado extinguished.

Almost one hour later, he allowed a traumatised Mrs. Gillard to cling to her husband one last time, before having him dragged from the mercantile. Mrs. Gillard followed, slow and trembling, crying with near hysteria, to witness her husband's hanging. It was over quickly, Banastre found it distasteful to draw moments such as these out. When the rebel was dead, he had him cut from the tree and left Mrs. Gillard weeping over her husband's body.

Returning to the Mercantile, he glanced around the shop one last time. It was empty now - the patrons of the shop long since fled. Seeing nothing that could be of use to him, apart from several broadsheets from different publishing houses, he left the mercantile and gave the order to fire it. He did not bother to watch the inferno - the day was wearing on and he still had several towns to visit.

::::::::

Later that evening, Banastre sat brooding in his tent. The news he had read in the broadsheets taken from Mr. Gillard's store had been unexpected indeed. Each one held the announcement of Beth's engagement to Colonel Burwell and Banastre had had to cope with this unwanted information for the entire day. Now he was alone except for his bottle of whiskey and his pipe.

Marriage to Burwell… If the woman in question had been anyone other than Beth, Banastre would have made her an instant target. He would have rounded his troop and ridden for her on the moment. Taking Burwell's fiancé hostage would have a devastating effect on the enemy Colonel. Though Burwell probably would refuse to marry the woman once the Dragoons were through with her, it would still be a disgrace and humiliation for the Colonel.

But the woman in question was _Beth_, and Banastre would never allow any harm to come to her.

He knocked back another whiskey, he'd lost count of how many he'd consumed so far that evening. Hanger ducked into the tent with a plate of food, his monkey - the Little Man - riding his shoulder.

"He's twenty-five years her senior!" Banastre slurred, not for the first time. "What is her father thinking, allowing a match like that? My beautiful Beth, forced to lay on her back for that old… wrinkly…" Banastre trailed off with a shudder.

"Eat up, Ban," Hanger nudged the plate across the table. "Soak up some of that whiskey, aye?"

"I don't want to soak it up," Tarleton ground out. "I don't want to be sober! Two more Banns Hanger! And then they can marry. And she'll have to… to… to do with _Burwell_ the things she _should_ be doing with me!"

"Hmm," Hanger sat back and studied his friend, his Commander. He'd seen Banastre in love before, the Lieutenant Colonel was as passionate as he was lethal. This was different, however. Miss Martin had gotten under his friends skin. "You need a doxy, thats what you need."

"Getting my end away isn't going take my mind off this," Banastre, swaying in his seat, reached for the nearest broadsheet. He was seeing double, it took him several attempts before he could pick it up.

"It will for a short while, and you'll fall asleep right after, I'm thinking. Come on, Ban, cheer up. She's not married yet!" Hanger rose from his chair and circled the table. Grabbing Banastre by the arm, he hauled the Commander from his seat. Banastre was a dead weight, however and Hanger almost dropped them both to the floor. "Christ, I doubt this will work - you won't even be able to get it up!"

"I can always get it up!" Banastre protested hotly - sensing an insult to his masculinity. He began fumbling at his belt buckle with clumsy fingers. "You'll see. I'll show you!"

"I don't want to see it," Hanger chuckled. He hauled Banastre out of the tent and the two stumbled through camp to the doxies tents.

"Not a blonde," Banastre muttered.

"I know," Hanger murmured. Banastre had not taken another blonde haired brown eye woman to his bed for days now. He chose a black haired, blue eyed wench. A pretty thing, she would take care of Banastre well enough. Once they were there, Tarleton lumbered into the doxies tent, careening dangerously. Hanger ducked in as well and steadied him. The doxy glanced up from her cot, surprised to see the commanding Officer in such a soused state.

"Broken heart," Hanger explained shortly as Banastre, collapsing to his knees, reached for the chamber pot under the cot and heaved up all the whiskey he'd been drinking.

"Lovely," the doxy curled her lip. "He's going to stink of vomit now."

"Agh never mind that," Hanger said cheerfully. "I'll throw you a few extra sovereigns."

"I'll hold you to that," the doxy knelt down beside Banastre as he continued to heave. She caressed his hair and back, offering comfort. Banastre was a favourite amongst the doxies and they did their best to take good care of him. When he finished, he sat back on his heels and swayed.

"Here," the doxy passed him a glass of water. Taking care of him was one thing, but she wanted his vomit washed from his mouth before he kissed her. Tarleton drank the water then passed her back the glass and squeezed his eyes shut, swaying on his knees.

"I'll leave him to your tender ministrations, then," Hanger announced.

"Here, help me get his boots off first," she said. Hanger rolled his eyes and helped the doxy remove the soused Commanders boots, before leaving the tent.

The doxy unbuckled Tarleton's belt and Banastre collapsed to the edge of the cot while the woman pulled his breeches off his legs. He gazed down at her, bleary eyed, and opened his legs to give her room. She edged closer, on her knees, and began to pleasure him with her mouth. Unfortunately for Banastre, he was so thoroughly crocked that he could only maintain an erection for a sparse few minutes before he collapsed back against the cot, snoring heavily.

The Commander lay in the most comical and obscene position possible. Laying on his back across the cot with his bare legs dangling akimbo over the side, his feet on the floor. His flaccid member dangled off to one side, nestled in his course auburn curls. The doxy hefted a sigh and reached for a blanket. With the Commander taking up the entire cot, she would have to work outside for the rest of the night. At least it was warm out.

She lay the blanket over the prone, snoring Banastre to cover his nude and undignified appearance, then quietly left the tent.

:::::::

The following morning, when Banastre awoke, his head was splitting. Pain seared him, he was sick to his stomach.

"You're just hungover," Hanger shook his head. He was standing over Banastre's prone form as the Commandant moaned on his cot back in his own tent.

"No, I'm dying," Banastre lamented.

"Oh, well, if you insist," George quipped. "I get first choice on your dagger then - the one with the horses head on the pommel."

"Agghhhh," was the only reply.

"Ah, get up you lousy drunk," Hanger reached down to haul Banastre up but the Commandant just fell back again with another heavy groan. It was then that he - the Major - noticed the sweat on Banastre's brow. While some were sick to the point that they sweated profusely after a nights heavy drinking, Banastre was not usually one of them. With a frown, he removed a glove from one hand and pressed the backs of his fingers to Banastre's forehead.

"Agh, God damn it, you _are_ fucking sick!" Hanger burst out, feeling the heat searing from Banastre's brow.

"Told you," came the muttered reply.

"A pile of stinking cart shit! I'll fetch Daniels," Hanger stomped off to fetch the corpsman back to Banastre's tent.

After asking a series of questions, trying to determine Banastre's symptoms, Daniels told Hanger that he would bleed Banastre and give him Laudanum, but apart from that, he merely needed to rest for a few days and he'd be right as rain.

"Right as bloody rain," Hanger muttered, sitting by Banastre's bedside as the Commandant's blood dripped into a bowl from the wound cut on his arm. Banastre's auburn hair hung in stringy, wet, limp strands from his brow and his brown eyes were glazed.

"Your orders, Sir?" George asked officiously, Banastre was still commandant, after all.

"Get word to Cornwallis," came the whispered reply. "We'll stay here for a night or two until I am well enough to sit the saddle."

"Good idea. Anything else?"

"Yes," Banastre said softly. "Tell Cornwallis that as soon as I am up and about, we will be travelling directly down Black River Rd, heading South all the way to Dogwood Pond."

"What the bloody Devil for?" Hanger burst out, fearing he could not trust Banastre's commands for the man was clearly becoming delirious.

"To take Burwell's bloody fiancé captive," Banastre muttered.

Hanger stared at Banastre with incredulity. When it became apparent that Banastre meant what he said, he left the tent to send the missive to Cornwallis. Cornwallis wrote back quickly, commiserating and expressing his grave concerns for his protege - Banastre Tarleton. Cornwallis approved of Banastre's plan to take 'Burwell's fiancé' into custody. Not outright, of course, though he did not refute the idea, nor did he give commands to the contrary. Indeed, he wished Banastre a speedy recovery and luck in his 'endeavours' on the Dogwood. Though he never said it in so many words, clearly he agreed that 'Burwell's fiancé' would make a most excellent hostage, also.

As it happened, Banastre was sick - prone on his cot - for several more days. Eventually, however, he felt well enough to ride and Tarleton's Legion began packing up their camp. In short order, early Monday morning of the 26th of June, Banastre began to slow trek toward Black River Road, his mind set on reaching Dogwood Pond and Miss Beth Martin.

::::::::

The following evening after Banastre had drunk himself soused, Benjamin and Harry sat in the small parlor at Fresh Water Plantation. Sipping whiskey and smoking their pipes, and discussing the broadsheets that had arrived that morning. More accurately, they discussed an advertisement placed in the broadsheet by Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton. The communique took up almost the entire front page of the four page news paper.

"A call to arms," Burwell muttered. "How many from these parts will answer, do you think?"

"More than I'd care to admit," Benjamin replied. "Pembroke is almost all Patriot, as is Kingstree and here on the Dogwood. Not many of us will be taking Tarleton up on his offer. But further out - toward Wakefield, you get more Loyalists there."

"Christ, he'd double his numbers if he recruits from Wakefield," Harry agreed. "And from Andrews as well, from what I know of the place. Though it'll be a good while before he gets down that far."

"He is still a long way off from us yet, but if he does come down this way and if he takes the Brewington Road, we'll be in for some trouble," Benjamin fretted. "If he knew you were camped here, with only one hundred men…"

"It'd be a massacre," Burwell finished when Benjamin trailed off. "As you said, he's still up in Hartsville, and he's crossing the country to the East and West, visiting villages as he makes his way down. It'll be some time before he gets down this far. Weeks even."

"Are you going to make a break for it, then? Try and circle around to get back to Gates?" Benjamin asked as he sucked on his pipe.

Burwell shook his head.

"No, I'd only chance encountering Tarleton along the way. I'll wait here until he's movements are clearer, get a feel for where he's going to be, and then slip around him across Dogwood Pond, then through the woods - I'll be able to circle up and around while he's still heading down to Wakefield."

Benjamin nodded agreement. It was for the best to just stay put - at least they knew where Tarleton was for now and he was still miles away.

"Poor Mrs. Gillard," Benjamin said now. He shook his head in sympathy. "Raped by Dragoons and now widowed. Its despicable, how they are choosing to fight this war."

Word had reached them just an hour or so ago, of what had taken place at Hartsville the day before.

"She's not the first and she won't be the last," Harry ground out. "Benjamin - why don't you join?"

"Harry, we've discussed this -" Benjamin began but Harry cut him off, suddenly furious with his old friend and former Captain.

"God damn it! I need you! With Marion gone, the militia is in disarray! Tarleton is going after them, forcing them to take Cornwallis up on his Amnesty! He's burning storage houses, murdering Patriot men, raping Patriot women! What will he do when he gets here, hmm? You are not safe - the war is coming and there is nothing you can do about it, if you are sitting here building cribs! Jesus - I need you, Captain Martin!"

Benjamin tightened his lips but remained stubbornly silent. Burwell blew out an angry breath and drank back his whiskey.

"You always were a stubborn bastard," Harry said finally. "When you come to your senses, you know where I'll be. Pray you don't wait too long," he continued ominously.

Still Benjamin did not rise to the bait. He would not join the war effort and that was an end to it.

Sensing the subject was closed, Burwell heaved a sullen sigh and began chatting of other things. Benjamin would join when he was ready, Burwell just hoped he and his family didn't suffer too much at British hands before hand. As the sudden tension eased between them, the two began to laugh over Beth and Charlotte's misadventure two days previous, when the women had come together and drank all that whiskey.

"Beth didn't get out of bed all day yesterday," Benjamin chuckled. He assumed it was the whiskey, of course he had no idea of what else was ailing his daughter.

"Well, she was certainly up and about today," Burwell smiled. "Have you given any thought to her idea - that we get married Sunday week - after the last announcement is made?"

"Yes," Benjamin said slowly, then, "…No…"

"No, we can't get married right away or no you haven't given it any thought?"

Beth had been rampant on the subject all day long - near to driving her father insane with her nagging. She had valid arguments, however, even Benjamin agreed with them.

"I've thought about it, Harry. I just don't know. She is talking sense - it really would be best for her to be gone from here. Safer, in case that Tavington comes after her. But Christ, she's only been back two weeks and I've missed her! I'm not ready to let her go."

"You never will be," Harry said wisely. "You still have time to decide. If I get a vote in it at all, I say it its a good idea - we'll all be at the church anyway. And I don't particularly want to leave without her."

"I know you don't," Benjamin said tiredly. "Look, the second reading is in only three days time. We'll run it past Oliver and see what he says - he might have some moral reason against it and if he refuses to perform the ceremony so soon, its not going to happen. I'm not saying 'no'. I'm just saying wait and see. Let me get used to the idea, for Christ's sake."

"Hey!" Burwell threw his arms up in surrender. "I'm not the one whose been in your ear all day. Sweet Lord she wouldn't let it go, would she? Such a temper on her."

"And you want to marry her? You sure you don't want to wait until Margaret is older?" Benjamin laughed now. "She's got a much sweet disposition."

"That she has," Burwell agreed. His smile became wistful, "but I like Beth's fiery temper. She's my lioness."

"Oh, sweet Lord above save me from love sick fools," Benjamin closed his eyes as though praying, though he was well pleased with Harry's response.

Just then, they heard voices approaching from outside the house, heavy foot falls trotting onto the wooden verandah. The front door opened and eventually Gabriel entered the parlor, with several plain clothed men in tow.

"Rollins!" Benjamin roared, lurching from his chair to greet his friend. He belatedly remembered the women and children were all asleep, for the hour was quite late. He lowered his voice as he pounded Rollins hard on the back.

"Martin," Rollins returned the backslaps, then turned to Burwell. He stood to attention, having been one of Harry's troop back in the day. Burwell scoffed and greeted his former Captain in much the same way Benjamin had, with hearty slaps to the mans back.

"Christ, are these your sons?" he asked incredulously of the now grown young men. "Jesus, the last time I saw you boys, you were this high!" He held his hand, palm down, a yard from the ground.

"Yeh, we've grown a bit," the older boy smirked.

Another man was entering, Robert Miller - otherwise known as Curly. More backslaps and much fuss later and the men were again seated, all with whiskey in their hands, as they told their tale in grave voices.

"So I went straight away to me own place," Rollins was saying. "But my sons convinced me that there's safety in numbers. We can't stay there, with Bloody Ban coming after the Patriot milita. Hell will freeze over before I accept Cornwallis' Amnesty so if we're caught at our farm, we'll hang for sure."

"Where's Huddy?" Burwell asked gravely.

"He's gone to ground," Rollins informed the Colonel. After Banastre Tarleton attacked Captain Huddy in his home and took the militiaman prisoner, Rollins had alerted his unit, rallying what was left of the men, and they had rescued Huddy. "It was a hot and fierce fight - that Tarleton fights like a Goddamned demon from Hell. But we got Huddy away, though now he wants to lay low with his wife and daughters. The rest of us have scattered, all trying to get to our homes before Tarleton arrives. As I said, I got to my sons but we've decided we can't just stay there on the farm and wait. If we are here instead, then at least we can make up some false names. If Bloody Ban makes it this far, he won't know us from a bottle of whiskey."

Curly and Rollins sons were nodding, and all eyes turned to Benjamin to await his verdict. He was the one who would decide if they could stay with him, it was his house they'd just invaded after all.

It was sound reasoning, Benjamin knew. If the men were at their own farms when Tarleton came to call, they wouldn't have a hope of convincing the enemy Officer that they _weren't_ the notorious rebels who had served recently with Francis Marion. However, if they remained at Fresh Water, they could camouflage themselves amongst the many men working the plantation. Benjamin himself had not been implicated as a militiaman - so unless Tarleton learned that Benjamin had harboured Burwell and his unit of Continentals, it should prove to be a fairly safe haven for the men.

Though where he was to put them… he sighed with resignation. He already had upward of a hundred Continentals living on the property, what was a few more men thrown into the bargain? Though they were no longer Regulars serving in the army, these men were on Benjamin's own unit and he'd not abandon them now.

"Welcome home, boys," was all he said, inclining his head and lifting his glass of whiskey. The men exchanged smiles of relief and, imitating Benjamin, downed their whiskey's in one gulp.

::::::::::::::

**_Wednesday - 21st June - Charles Town_**

Mark Putman's spies met in Adam Tisdale's parlor, as had become their habit. They met as often as they could, imparting news and making plans, though usually they did so at night, when there was less chance of being seen convening together. It was early morning now, but as they were gathered together to discuss Mark Putman and Edward Rutledge rescue from the cells and as time was of the essence, the risk of being seen together had to be taken.

"How did the forgery go?" Trellim asked Banskia. The scarred rebel had been working on forging Tavington's signature for days now, and had perfected the Lieutenant Colonel's writing to a tea.

"Perfect," he said now, pulling a letter from a leather satchel and handing it to Watson. "It's all there. The order to have Putman and Rutledge removed for questioning elsewhere. If I hadn't bloody written it meself, I'd never suspect it wasn't Tavington's own handwriting."

"Very well," Watson said nervously. "Yes, these orders are perfect. To take Putman and Rutledge out of the cells for interrogation. The guards will believe that, for certain."

"Tavington has made no secret of his intentions to question Putman. I believe he will be doing it soon, so we'd best get a move on this," Trellim said firmly.

"We still need to get Cilla and Mrs. Putman out as well," Colin reminded them. "It has to be orchestrated so it all happens at the same time."

"I'm not certain what Mark's gonna say, about his wife when he finds out she's been fucking Bordon." Banksia ground out.

"That is neither here nor there," Colin snapped. "Our responsibility is to see the women to safety. And I do not believe that Cilla will come with us without her mother, so we have little choice. To take one, we must take the other."

"He's right," Trellim asserted. "We will get them out of Charles Town. I've already made contact with Roger Middleton - Mrs. Putman's brother. I didn't think it was my place to say anything about her affair with Bordon. Roger is heavily Patriot like the rest of us, he wouldn't take kindly to learning his sister has whored herself with a British Officer. He is ready to take her and Cilla to his plantation at a moments notice, so I say we just let Putman deal with his wife as he sees fit, when we get him out of the cells and safely away to Roger's."

"Agreed," Colin asserted with a baleful glare at Banksia.

"It ain't none of my concern," Banksia shrugged. "But you be careful how much you tell her, you hear? She could be whispering secrets in his ear when they've got their heads on the pillow after fucking."

"I don't believe she's turned traitor," Colin mused, frowning. "She seemed quite anxious and relieved when I broached her on the subject of leaving. I didn't tell her much at all, nothing more than 'mights' and 'maybes'. She's worried for Cilla and wants to get away from here. The way she was speaking, looking over her shoulder and whispering, she seemed scared silly. I've started to wonder if Bordon is forcing himself on her."

"Maybe," Banksia said noncommittally.

"Lets reserve judgement for now, then shall we?" Trellim said wisely. "As long as she doesn't reveal us, thats all that matters just now. If Bordon's forced her - then that'll be another thing for Putman to deal with."

The four men leaned forward intently and began discussing the details of the rescue down to the finer points while Adam Tisdale watched on, smoking his pipe. He offered some advice up here and there but was mostly silent during the exchange. Once the details were narrowed down, the men began arguing over how soon they could execute their rescue plan.

"Look, all I'm saying is that it will be much easier when Tavington is out of town," Colin was saying. "He is planning on taking the Dragoons on more training exercises in a couple days. Which means the three of us will be with him and far from Charles Town -" he pointed at Trellim and Bankia when he said this, "when Watson makes his move. We will be above suspicion. And it will be easier for Watson, there would be no chance that Tavington will happen to come along at the wrong moment - just when Watson is leading the Rutledge and Putman from the cells, for example."

The men all began to picture Private Watson and the Patriot's wearing their stolen Redcoats, leading the prisoners out of jail only to encounter Bordon and Tavington on the stairwell. That, quite simply, would be a disaster. And would end with Watson's hanging.

"There is merit in what you've said, Colin. I'd prefer to do this sooner rather than later," Trellim admitted gravely. "But there is little choice and it certainly would be preferable for Watson to do this when Tavington is out of town. Friday it is, then."

Then men began to argue back and forth, until it was decided they had no real choice. When the Green Dragoons - including Trellim, Banksia and Colin Ferguson - were far from Charles Town, Watson and the Patriot men Trellim had assigned to him would make their move.

::::::::

Tavington and Bordon sat on the hard wooden chairs, waiting in the antechamber patiently. They were not alone, other Redcoats milled about, standing in small groups or striding past purposefully.

"Banastre has arrived at Hartsville," Tavington said quietly. "There has already been a flood of complaints from Colonials, mostly Patriots."

"Do you think he has summoned us to discuss Tarleton then?" Bordon asked dubiously.

"I do not believe so," William replied. He stretched his long legs out before him and crossed them at the ankles, one boot over the other. "I dare say he wishes to discuss the rumours of a Continental presence near to Camden. Cornwallis' scouts have returned none the wiser, so I can't imagine a sizeable force could be lurking close by and remain undetected."

"I can't imagine it either," the Captain admitted. "I can't imagine that Gates is truly out there. If you ask me, its all fluff and nonsense. He's still in North Carolina licking his wounds."

"I wish he _was_ out there," William sniffed. "Imagine if we could take him captive?"

"That'd be a fine thing," Bordon agreed. General Gates would certainly make a useful prisoner. Taking such a significant and high ranking Official would go a long way to demoralising the Continental force. Taking the enemy General out of the equation would be a huge blow, leaving the Patriots with one less leader.

"At least Marion has been dealt with," Tavington muttered. "No more God damned rebels, their militia will be in disarray for some time. I can't see them being able to reestablish themselves anytime soon."

Francis Marion's death had deprived the Patriot militia of a strong Commander. Worse yet for the rebels, Tarleton was Hell bent on his task of hunting down each one who had served in the militia. Each rebel that Banastre caught was given a choice. A hanging, or Cornwallis' Amnesty. Quite a few of them had chosen the Amnesty - to change sides and fight for the British, though a surprisingly large amount had chosen the noose.

Either way, with Tavington due to lead his own Legion out to scour the countryside from Charles Town to Columbia, the rebels were on the run. Too busy saving their own lives and trying to keep their families safe to even think of banding together again. The terror Banastre had caused so far was proving to keep the Patriots quelled. This would only be heightened when Tavington himself began his campaign against the Colonial's.

Bordon was nodding agreement.

"Tarleton will deal with those of the rebels who have thrown down their guns and run home with their tails between their legs," Richard scoffed. "And I can just see them now, the ones we'll encounter when we begin out own raids from here to Columbia. Each and every Goddamned rebel will try their best to convince us they are good little Loyalists and never served a day with the militia."

"Hmm. That will not save their farms," William observed. "If it is terror Clinton and Cornwallis want, then it's terror these locals will get."

"Just think of all the horses we'll gain!" Bordon said excitedly. William scoffed a laugh, one of their other objectives would be to outfit the Dragoons with horses. They'd purchase them, or take them, from the Colonial farmsteads.

"The sooner we leave the better, I'm getting tired of Charles Town," Bordon said now. "It's time to move on, get back in the saddle."

"Before your arse gets too soft?" Tavington taunted and Bordon laughed. William continued in a dark tone, "I couldn't agree more, Richard. Its time to leave."

Past time, in fact, to fetch Beth back from her father's plantation. Of course it would be weeks yet before he would depart Charles Town and even then, the route he had been commanded to take to hunt down rebels and recruit to the Loyalist militia would take him in the opposite direction completely. If he was to go to visit Beth's plantation, which was somewhere on the Dogwood, he would need to head East once he was abreast of Holly Hill. But he had his orders and he would need to continue on Northward to Columbia, which would take him further and further away from Fresh Water Plantation.

It was vexing indeed. Beth had been gone for only a few days but he was becoming increasingly impatient to recover her. He did a mental calculation now, then blew out an angry breath. The letter he'd sent her through Mary Ferguson would only just be arriving to Beth now, unless by some miracle it had been delivered the day before. In any case, he doubted he could expect a response from her any earlier than Friday 23rd.

"Banastre will be working his way down from Hartsville," Bordon said, correctly guessing the direction William's thoughts had taken. "You could have him fetch her."

"Absolutely not!" Tavington said fervently, shifting restlessly in his seat. "He wants her for himself! No, I'd be better off sending a detachment from the British Legion - my own men - rather than rely on Banastre where Beth is concerned."

"Hmm, I see your point," Bordon murmured.

It wasn't a bad idea, Tavington began to muse. He could send a small troop to Fresh Water to take Beth.

But then her father would most likely lay a complaint to Cornwallis, that his daughter had been seized without his blessing or permission. William really had no right to make such a move, not without Clinton's authority. He would only be able to take Beth if he was there to command her in person, to deliver his ultimatum himself, forcing her to submit to him. Even then, her father would have just cause to complain but if William had Beth on side, it would make his case much stronger. And then of course, once they were married, no one would question his authority over her.

Linda would prove a problem, he had known it for a while now. She was everything he needed just at the moment, her specialist style of bedding helped to calm his fury, cool his burning rage. He had promised her she could leave Charles Town with him - hell, he had invited her! She would continue to be his mistress even after he married Beth, though he would ensure she had her own tent as far from the tent he would share with Beth as he could manage.

"... Harmony," Bordon finished and Tavington started. He had been so consumed with thoughts of Beth and Linda that he had not heard a word the Captain had said.

"Ah..." He said, searching his memory for what his Captain had been saying.

"You weren't listening, were you?" Richard accused testily.

"Sorry -"

"Sorry you were so lost in a daze that you didn't hear a word I said?" Bordon arched an eyebrow. "Am I sitting here by myself?"

"You will be soon," Tavington muttered. "What were you saying?"

"Yes, because I truly enjoy repeating myself," Bordon complained. "I was just saying that the Middleton twins are causing some problems. It seemed the Redcoat has gone to their heads and the twins have been strutting about in taverns like a couple of peacocks. Harmony said she saw them for herself at the Kings Arms - she was working when the twins came in and within minutes a brawl started."

"Christ," Tavington muttered. "I never thought those two would be the type to bust up taverns."

"No, they are not like us at all," Bordon said with a straight face. He, William and Banastre had caused their fair share of trouble over the last four years in the Colonies. William scoffed at the comment and Bordon continued. "Anyway, Harmony told me in the hope that you would settle the boys back on their heels."

"Certainly," William said. "It will be as I said, no more carousing. I'll have to crack down on the entire troop it seems, if Arthur Simms is not the only culprit. You and I will need to modify our own conduct from this point forward, also."

"There is nothing wrong with my conduct," Richard announced primly and Tavington snorted.

"Firstly, we both drink to excess," Tavington began counting points off his fingers. "Secondly, we game too much in public taverns. Thirdly, we both keep mistresses openly."

"I hope you're not suggesting I give Harmony up?" Richard said, aghast at the idea.

"No, but we need to learn discretion. I have decided that when we leave, Linda will keep her own tent - away from the Dragoons section. You will do the same with Miss Jutland. We might as well begin now, while we're in Charles Town."

"At the Putman's? Then you'll have to stop all that caterwauling from Linda," Richard bantered, relieved that William was still allowing Harmony to come to camp.

"I'll shove a gag in her mouth," William chuckled. "We can still play cards, gamble and get soused, but only amongst ourselves in the privacy of the Putman's. When we are at camp, we shall only play and drink in the privacy of the Officer's quarter of camp."

"In other words," Bordon laughed, "we can do as we wish, but we must do so on the sly?"

"It boils down to that, yes," William smirked. "As I said, discretion, Bordon. Discretion."

Bordon shifted on his hard seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. He wondered how much longer the Commander in Chief was going to be, he had summoned them and then kept them waiting for almost a half hour! He was getting bored and surly. And his backside was beginning to hurt on the hard seat.

"Perhaps you are right, my arse is getting too soft," Richard lamented aloud. "When do you plan on questioning Mark Putman?"

"Soon. He's been on a nice simmer in the cells for the last few days, lets give him a little more time to be well and truly cook," William decided. His expression darkened, his ever present fury coming to the fore. "Damned traitors..."

"Hmm. I believe you are correct, I think he will be just about ready to go under the question. The promise of a hot dinner should be enough."

Mark had barely been fed since he was jailed, only enough to keep him alive. Tavington nodded agreement - Putman must been starving by now.

"And if it isn't, we shall use more direct means," he said ominously. Damned rebel had helped spirit Beth from Charles Town. He had been dealing with Marion for months, or so Tavington suspected. He had no proof of it, thus far - only Zeke the slaves word. For all he knew, Putman had been taking orders from Burwell himself. Either way, Tavington intended to extract every inch of knowledge from the Patriot spy, by any means necessary. "I'll see the bastard hanged, afterwards."

Bordon raised an eyebrow in surprise but kept his thoughts to himself. Mark Putman was Beth's uncle. It shocked Bordon that Tavington would consider hanging the uncle of the woman he intended to marry. It heartened him to hear it - he had feared William was going soft. That he would allow his strong feelings for the Patriot woman to get in the way of his duty.

_I should've known better,_ he thought now. William would not balk at his duty, he would do what needed to be done.

"Damned old witch," Tavington muttered now.

"Mrs. Simms, I presume?" Richard guessed.

"The very one."

"It sounds as though you settled her back on her heels swiftly enough," Bordon assured him. "Mr. And Mrs. Simms both."

"Such gratitude they've shown her!" William ground out derisively. "Surely Mrs. Simms would know that a few well chosen words from her lips could make or break Beth's reputation?"

"If she didn't know, she does now," Bordon chuckled. "She was damned near ready to shit herself, I suspect. Her and her husband both. From what you said, you gave them quite a taste of your fury."

"They deserved it," William scoffed. "Beth goes out of her way to send Arthur that damned warning, knowing fully well what trouble it could bring her. And the moment Beth's virtue is compromised, the Simms turn their back on her? No - I was not going to have it!"

"I believe they understand the situation clearly now," Richard observed. "Mrs. Simms did well last night, expounding Miss Martin's virtue and telling all and sundry the rumours were false. In my opinion, as long as you marry Miss Martin, she'll be accepted back."

"Make an honest woman of her?" Tavington arched an eyebrow. "Well, thats exactly what I intend to do."

The men fell silent. Tavington sat back with his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed.

Obviously Clinton was going to take his damned sorry time admitting the Officers to his exalted presence and so Bordon leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes as well. Harmony had kept him up for half the night, as she had each night since his return. The poor dear was still frantic over the wounds he had suffered, still grief stricken that she had almost lost him to Francis Marion's sabre.

Tavington had saved his life that day. At great risk to himself, the Lieutenant Colonel had ignored the rebels trying to kill him and made his way to Bordon's side in time to counter Marion's final sword strike - the one that would have ended Bordon's life.

Richard sighed heavily. In that moment of recollection, he knew he would continue to do whatever was necessary to help William secure Beth - even if they were both committing treason by concealing and covering hers.

::::::::::::::

"Ah, Gentlemen," Clinton called across the chamber as Tavington and Bordon approached. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Some pressing news has reached me from New York and I needed to get some orders away on the hour."

"Nothing too calamitous, I hope?" Tavington commiserated. "With Tarleton on the Santee now, you have lost your most reliable Officer in New York."

"Indeed I have. No matter, the situation will be dealt with and I do not want to worry you unnecessarily. Please sit, both of you," Clinton suited his words by sitting at the large oak table he used for his council session. "I have some good news for you both, I do not want to blight it unnecessarily."

"Good news, Sir?" Tavington arched an eyebrow, feeling his first stirrings of hope. Good news was exactly what he needed to lift his spirits and if the news was what he thought it was... He kept nothing showing on his face but his heart began beating faster and he leaned in almost eagerly.

"Yes, indeed," Clinton smiled. "Not only has His Majesty King George accepted your application to have your post of Lieutenant Colonel made official, he has promoted you. Please allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Colonel William Tavington."

Clinton sat back with a small smile and watched his adjutants face.

Bordon was smiling broadly but Tavington - his jaw dropped, hung open like a swinging door.

"Full Colonelcy?" He breathed finally. "I applied for Lieutenant Colonel - Sir, are you certain... There must be some mistake -"

"No mistake," Clinton smiled, taking great pleasure in providing the news. "King George writes that you have exceeded all expectations. I myself recommended you for the post, as Colonel Walters was about to be promoted to General, leaving a void in the rank."

"Congratulations!" Bordon slapped the bemused Tavington on the back with such force William almost toppled from his chair. "You deserve it!"

"He certainly does," Clinton agreed. "Though I admit it may cause some contention between you and Banastre Tarleton. Cornwallis has informed me that Tarleton's application to the War Officer, to have his breveted post as Lieutenant Colonel made official, was rejected."

"Rejected?" Tavington whispered. "On what grounds?" He still could not quite believe it. Full Colonelcy!

If he retired at the very moment it would be as Colonel William Tavington, not Major - not Lieutenant Colonel - but Colonel!

"I'm not certain," Clinton admitted. He waved his hand to dismiss the topic, it was of no moment why Tarleton's rank had not been made official. "What is certain, however, is that you are now Colonel in your full right, you will receive the full pay that the rank comes with. Tavington, you must be made aware that this could cause quite a lot of bickering amongst the other Officers, who have been passed over in favor for you."

"I'm used to that," Tavington said quietly. "I've risen so quickly and I've dealt with jealous Officers before. But Colonelcy..."

"I see you will need some time to get used to the idea," Clinton said, amused. He turned to Bordon. "Captain Bordon, you may be wondering why I summoned you also. With Colonel Tavington's promotion, there is a void in the rank of Major. As such, you have been promoted. Congratulations, Major Bordon."

Bordon's jaw dropped now.

"Ah, well, th - thank you, Sir," he managed after several attempts.

"You're welcome. You deserve to be promoted as much as Tavington here. I believe there are more than enough Captain's in the Green Dragoons now, don't you?"

Bordon smiled with pleasure and nodded. He exchanged excited glances with Tavington, who was finally coming to accept the news of his new rank.

Colonel William Tavington...

A swell of pride and pleasure spread through his body. Ambitious by nature, William mused on how he was only one step away to being raised to General Tavington - it was only one skip stone away now. Easily attainable. And then Brigadier General from there...

"...New York," Clinton was saying. His words pulled Tavington from his revery. "Shortly. You will be placed under Cornwallis before I leave."

"You will be missed, Sir," Tavington said.

"And I shall miss you, Colonel," Clinton replied genuinely. He had grown quite fond of his protege and was loathe to give him up to Cornwallis. They were at war however and Tavington's skills would be put to better use along the Santee, gaining intelligence, helping Banastre to quell the locals and recruit to the Loyalist militia.

::::::::::

Tavington was in perfect contentment, on top of the world, for the remainder of his council with Clinton and on the ride back to the Putman residence. Bordon had collected Harmony from the small room she rented over a cobbler shop, on the way from the Assembly Hall.

"To celebrate my promotion with my woman," he had explained to William, who understood completely. He considered sending for Linda as he trotted his horse into the yard at the back of Putman's manor. He had some work to do first, before he could settle in for the day with Linda. He had appropriated Mark's office for his own use and he headed there now.

As soon as he sat behind Mark's desk, he began writing a letter to his mother, informing her of his promotion. It would please her, he knew, and might - to some extent - lessen her disappointment. His letter informing his mother that he had decided to end his engagement to Miss Eleanor Price would still be aboard ship, making its way to England. She would learn the news in another seven weeks or so and William knew she would be less than pleased. But his promotion should cheer her, or so he hoped.

Once he finished the letter, he began a new one. He would, of course, need to share the news of his promotion with his fiancé. He had originally planned to wait for Beth to reply to his first letter before writing to her, but now he found he was far too excited. Surely she would be pleased for him, despite the troubles between them.

He had filled almost half the sheet of parchment with his neat writing when a knock sounded on the heavy oak door, three sharp taps which were followed by Captain James Wilkins. The Colonial Captain held a broadsheet in his hands and his face was set in an uncharacteristically grave expression.

"Ah, Wilkins," William greeted him with a small smile. He placed his quill down and closed the ink bottle to keep the dark liquid from drying out. "Have you heard the news?"

James eyebrows shot up with surprise. He took a seat opposite William, his grave expression shifting to bemusement. The broadsheet in his hand - the Anglican News - bore an announcement that James believed Tavington would certainly not be happy about. But William was smiling complacently.

"Ah, no, I have not," James said finally, deciding the two men had very different news to share.

"I was summoned by Clinton not long ago," William sat back in his chair and rested his arms to either side of him. Clearly at his ease, self satisfaction wafted from him. "He informed me that I have been promoted. I have been raised to Colonel - full rank, not brevet."

"Jesus!" Wilkins bellowed, the news sheet in his hand forgotten for the moment. Pleased and excited for the Officer, he reached across the desk and clasped William's hand. "Congratulations, Sir! What an achievement, Colonel in only four years!"

"Indeed," William drew his hand back, a small smile on his lips as he preened under Wilkins praise.

"You'll be a General soon," James predicted. "Be sure you don't forget your friends, when you've risen to the loftier heights!"

Tavington laughed.

"I won't forget, Wilkins. More good news - Bordon was raised to Major -"

"That is good news!" James asserted.

"Which leaves a void in Bordon's place," William announced, deciding on the spur of the moment that Wilkins was just the man he needed. Many Officers held the rank of Captain in the British Legion but they all deferred to Bordon. He had not been placed above the others in any 'official' capacity, it was more military politics - an unspoken hierarchy - that caused the other Captains to defer to Bordon. "Major Bordon's responsibilities will change now. I am making you first above the other Captains. You will take on Bordon's former responsibilities and duties."

"Thank you, Colonel," James smiled with pleasure. "Its a grand opportunity you're offering, I will not let you down."

"I'm certain you won't," William said indulgently. The discussion had drawn to a natural end and William now broached James' purpose for coming to him.

"Now, what do you have for me?" He quirked his eyebrows and glanced down at the broadsheet in James' hand, assuming there was information contained in its pages that needed to be bought to his attention.

"Oh, yes," James startled and glanced at the broadsheet, his pleased expression becoming grave once more. "My wife Emily handed this to me a short while ago. The Anglican Bulletin, which has published the recent Banns."

Wilkins unfolded the broadsheet and laid it out on the desk. William frowned - what interest could reading the Banns be to him? James placed his finger on the broadsheet, pointing, and William began to read aloud.

"Reverend Oliver of Pembroke Parish had the extreme pleasure of announcing the following Banns to his Assemblage this past Sunday, 18th June, 1780. First, Miss Alice Ballinger of Pembroke Parish to Mr. Frank Abbott, also of Pembroke Parish. Second, Miss -"

William cut short and stared at Beth's name with disbelief and horror. He finally continued softly.

"Miss Elizabeth Martin of Pembroke Parish to Colonel Harry Burwell of Raleigh Parish." His eyes were fixed to the page as he stared darkly at the announcement.

"I thought you would wish to be informed immediately," Wilkins said nervously, breaking the silence. "You should also know that there was some confusion amongst my wife Emily and her sisters. All of whom had been told by their mother that Miss Martin is your fiancé. I believe you might have to field quite a few comments and questions in the coming days."

In an effort to lessen the damage done to Beth's reputation, William had been putting it about that the two were engaged to be married at the time of the Simms ball. Those people he had told would certainly be confused, they certainly would have questions, when they read the bann announcing Beth's engagement to Burwell instead.

"I wonder if Miss Martin is being forced to wed Burwell," Wilkins mused now. Either he believed that himself or he was merely giving Tavington advice on what to tell the others. William was too stunned at that moment to care which it was. It was difficult to think through the shock that pierced him.

Eventually, his mind began to work, sluggishly at first. Though only one thought screamed through his mind, filling his head to bursting.

Beth was engaged. To Burwell.

"Wilkins, leave me," he commanded, too deep in his own tumult to care if he was being rude.

Without a word James rose from his chair and left the office, closing the door behind him.

:::::::::::::::::

_A/N - sorry if there's lots of mistakes, I didn't have time to do a thorough proof read - got to get sausages on for dinner, LOL!_

_Hi Ms A - Your review made my day - thank you so much! As you know, I was a little worried about having the 'Ladies' be so open about sex, and then the letter and all, so your words were a huge boost! I'm glad you liked the letter - I was smiling from ear to ear when you wrote that you could feel Tavington's anger! And yes - I loved writing that part, with Benjamin walking in on Beth and Burwell! Fun, funny days! :-)_


	42. Chapter 42 - The Brawl

**_Wednesday, 21_****_st_****_ June, Charles Town_**

And still Tavington sat, motionless, trying to deal with the riot of emotions flooding through him, making him shudder from the sheer force of them.

Hopelessness, despair. He detested those feelings beyond anything. But there they were, hopelessness, despair, threatening to pull him under. A heavy weight settled on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He was on the brink of shattering into a thousand pieces. All of his carefully laid plans, all of his plotting and manoeuvring, all to secure her.

And it was all for nothing.

Beth Martin was engaged to Colonel Harry Burwell.

It chilled his blood. Ice was flowing through his veins.

For a moment he was set adrift, lost in the memory of his and Beth's confrontation at the Simms ball. He could still see her dark brown eyes, darkened further with fury as she glared up at him.

::::

_"Colonel Buwell is in love with me, he would never treat me as you do!" She spat up at him from the ground. "He is a better man than you!"_

_Tavington snarled. With snakelike swiftness he seized her by the throat with one hand, raised his other hand threateningly, ready to slap her._

_"Oh," Beth gasped quietly with fear, unable to pull out of his iron grip. The tableau held, Beth wide eyed and waiting for the blow to land as Tavington struggled to control his fury and bloodlust. He curled his lip and pushed her back onto the grass. Rising from her abruptly, he strode away._

::::

His right hand twitched now, tense with the need to squeeze, squeeze and keep squeezing, choking the life from something, anything.

Not from Beth, never Beth.

From _Colonel_ _Burwell_.

And from _Benjamin_ _Martin_.

The same bloodlust he had felt that night during their fight blazed through him now. The frenzy, the battle fury that took over him when he engaged the enemy, now had him in its grip.

Burwell and Martin were the focus for it. The two men who would take Beth from him.

Her father - who must know by now that William would be coming for Beth, was trying to put her outside of Tavington's reach.

Colonel Burwell - who would take Beth to his bed each night. To touch her, to kiss her. To feel her body, naked, alongside his. Burwell would climb on top of her, part her legs.

He would _enter_ her.

Sweat beaded William's brow and he began to pant angrily - deep quick breaths. The blood fury would not leave him but he had no one to lash out at, no one to attack. His two adversaries were too far away.

Martin was miles from him, safely tucked away somewhere in the Dogwood. Burwell - Tavington had no clue where Burwell would be by now. Without them, he was deprived of his targets.

A knock was tapped on the door, this time followed by Arthur Simms. The Corporal closed the door behind him and approached warily. When he reached the desk he stood stock still before Tavington, who barely seemed to know he was there. Arthur swallowed hard, his eyes were wide and fearful as he gazed at the British Officer, who stared coldly, blindly.

Tavington seethed. Nothing but rage and emptiness, thats what they had left him with. Burwell and Martin. They were to blame, he'd make them pay. He'd flay them both alive, relish in their howls.

Beth was _his_ - he would hunt her, find her no matter where they concealed her, kill her husband if Burwell did manage to marry her.

"Sir?" Arthur whispered finally. He'd continued to stare at Tavington, dread curling along his spine. The Colonel was unaware of how positively unhinged he looked at that moment, his eyes cold and blazing, his face a mask of stone. His body stiff, his only movement were his fists curling and uncurling on the armrests of his chair.

Arthur had heard the news, James had just told him. Tavington, raised to Colonel. Beth, engaged to Burwell. He had come to congratulate William but also to see if he was alright.

Clearly, he was not.

Arthur swallowed and tried again.

"Colonel?" He called softly, tentatively.

A cool, frigid calm stole over the Commandant. William focused his gaze, lifting his cold piercing eyes to meet Arthur's. Arthur felt his mouth go dry, he recoiled, taking a full step back.

"Get me Bordon," Tavington commanded softly in a terrible voice.

The Corporal turned and fled the room.

::::::::

"Hmm, my Major," Harmony danced across the chamber and threw her arms around Bordon's neck. "It's going to take some getting used to, you realise? Major... Major... Sounds so strange - it's as if you've changed your name!"

"I know, it is strange for me also, I've been a Captain for so long," Bordon said as he disentangled himself from her arms and sat heavily on the bed to pull his boots off.

Harmony took a step back to regard him with concern.

"Out with it," she said finally and Richard glanced up at his lover in surprise.

"Out with it?" He smiled lewdly and placed his fingers on his belt buckle, unclasping it. "If you insist."

"Not out with that! Well, on second thoughts..." Harmony laughed and climbed up onto the bed, positioning herself on her knees behind him to massage his shoulders. "Tell me what is bothering you dear heart. You've been quiet, I thought you would've been happier about your promotion."

Her strong fingers dug deeply into his muscles in the exact right places.

"Hmm, perfect..." Bordon sighed deeply and leaned back against her chest. "What would I do without you?"

"There is always Linda, and the other women back at the tavern. You're a wealthy aristocrat, aren't you? You could replace me easily."

"The Hell I could," Bordon muttered, quite seriously.

"I think I like you like this, _Major Dick_."

Harmony was fond of calling Bordon 'Captain Dick', a play on his name and title which amused her no end.

Richard laughed. "Major Dick... That took quite a bit quicker than I'd thought."

"Hmm, I do have to get used to your new rank… From Captain Dick to Major Dick in the space of a morning. Tell me whats bothering you, dear heart."

"Darling, its Tavington," he tilted his head back slightly to gaze up at her. "He has said we must be more discreet - especially now with our promotions. I had thought you would be sharing my tent when we make camp, but Tavington said you and Linda must keep to your own tents, you will not even be in the Officer's quarters."

"Oh," Harmony was crestfallen. Her hands fell limply to her sides and she settled back on her heels. "Truly? I had hoped we'd be living together."

"So had I," Bordon admitted. Turning to face her, he reached up to stroke her face gently. "I'm sorry, darling. Perhaps he'll change his mind. It is important to maintain the formalities even in camp, but somethings can slide. But certainly at first, you will be in your own tent, not far from Linda's."

"I see," Harmony lowered her eyes and turned her face away.

"Oh, darling," Bordon took his lover into his strong arms. "All will be well. No other man would dare to approach you - they will all know you are mine. And I'll work on Tavington, I promise. You'll be sharing with me in a matter of weeks," or so he hoped. He didn't know for certain if William could be swayed - especially with their new promotions making it even more important that the two of them act with propriety. Their conduct needed to be above question.

"Do you really think so?" She turned to him with a hopeful expression. Bordon smiled and nodded, even more determined to work on Tavington as soon as they reached camp.

"I do, darling."

"Good," she smiled and placed her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to her on the bed. "Because I was looking forward to having you sleeping beside me," she leaned forward to brush her lips against his ear. "And I was looking forward to your morning kisses."

"Well, you could have both of those now if you would give up your room and move in here," he told her as her lips drifted down to his neck, a moist and very pleasant trail. It was a bone of contention between the pair - Harmony's need to maintain her independence for as long as she was able before the army moved out from Charles Town.

Instead of entering another argument about her willfulness, Harmony murmured against his neck, "I thought I said out with it?"

"Hmm, so you did, how remise of me," Bordon whispered, allowing himself to be distracted.

He released his hold on her, then pulled his breeches down and off his legs. Harmony lay back against the pillows and with an inviting smile, pulled up her skirts. He gazed down at her thinking, perhaps for the hundredth time, what a lucky bastard he was to have her. No complications, no associations to rebels. No betrayals, no treason. Just her, his beautiful Colonial with her golden hair gleaming in the candle light, her eyes shining bright with anticipation, her legs already parted and waiting for him.

He moved up her body, staring down at her all the while. After a lingering kiss, he took his heavy erection in his hand and positioned himself at her entrance, entering her in one fluid movement. He had to close is eyes and hold himself still for the longest time, feeling almost overcome as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

When he rogered Mage - an act he had repeated since that first time in the dining hall, it was purely for release. Screwing for the sake of it. With Harmony, however…

He heaved a profound sigh, leaned his weight on his arms above her and lowered his lips to hers. They kissed gently, their lips moving and gliding against each other.

"Your so beautiful," he whispered, as he finally beginning to move. "The loveliest belle the Colonies have to offer."

"Only the Colonies?" She teased breathlessly as they continued to kiss, their lips never more than an inch apart as his hips surged up and down fluidly, thrusting himself inside her.

"In the colonies, in England, in Ireland," he whispered back. "Though there may be a greater beauty elsewhere, I've yet to discover her."

Harmony smiled. She shifted her position slightly so he could hit the perfect angle.

"Mmm," she moaned, meeting his thrusts. "A little faster, dear heart."

"I'll come too quick," he chuckled.

"Let me on top then," she said, gripping his shoulders and guiding him off her. He slipped out as they adjusted their positions. She sat up and lifted one shapely thigh to straddle his hips. Taking hold of his now slick cock, she impaled herself with a hearty sigh.

The two began to move faster now, Bordon snarling with pleasure. He dug his fingers into Harmony's hips as she rode him, bucking her hips back and forth hard, forcing his length deeper inside her. The bed hit the wall with loud thumps, and Harmony cried out wildly in accompaniment to Bordon's grunts.

"Major?" Arthur banged his fist on the door.

"Give me a minute!" Bordon rasped. He lifted his head to watch his cock as it was buried into Harmony's velvety depths.

"Oh, no! Longer than that, please!" Harmony cried out.

Richard grunted as his mistress moaned loudly and ground hard against him. He continued to watch as she lifted herself up until he almost slipped out of her, then pushed back down on him with force.

"It's urgent, Sir!" Arthur called through the door.

"Is Charles Town under attack?" Richard growled. He bucked his hips up in time with his lover, their pleasure not abating, despite Arthur's interruption.

"Ah, no Sir, but -"

"Then give me a fucking minute!" Richard snarled loudly. He heard Arthur's footfalls retreat.

"Do not disturb Major Richard Bordon when he is in the middle of a good rogering, for anything less than a full scale invasion!" Harmony laughed and bucked faster.

Richard sat up and kissed her hard on the mouth, and the woman groaned with pleasure as their tongues met and duelled.

"Oh, I'm so close!" She whimpered against his lips. A few more thrusts and she'd be done for! Well, so would he, for that matter.

"Sir!" Again that thumping against the door and Richard seriously considered murdering Corporal Arthur Simms. He even began to plan just how he'd do it. Some rope, a pistol. No - a long dagger, he'd kill the boy slowly... "Colonel Tavington says if you don't get your… Ah… that is, if you don't come down to his office now, he'll… ah…" Arthur paused, clearly not wishing to deliver William's true command. "Sir, Colonel Tavington has summoned you."

"Why the fuck didn't you say so before!" Bordon growled with frustration. He continued more gently, "sorry, darling, duty calls."

With that, he lifted Harmony off his length and deposited her unceremoniously on the bed beside him.

"Richard!" Harmony cried out with fury. She really had been so close!

"I'm sorry," he repeated as he stumbled off the bed to his feet. He jerked his breeches up around his hips, buttoning them across his hard cock. He would be aching for the rest of the evening, he knew. And Harmony would be too. She would be off to the tavern shortly, picking up another girls shift for extra coins - another bone of contention between them - the amount time his lover spent at the tavern. They would not be able to couple again until the morning.

"You really are a Major Dick!" Harmony said crossly as she shoved her skirts around her thighs. She sat back on her heels and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Darling," Richard said. "I can't ignore a summons from Tavington − he's my Commander! If it was anyone else… But I _can't_, darling. Not when he knows we're in here rogering… He'd have me in irons!" He stamped his feet into his boots, then leaned over the bed to kiss her.

"Oh, no you don't!" She said furiously and climbed off the bed on the other side, keeping the bed between them. With a sharp glare she folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes flashed as she continued, "there's no time for that either! You've been _summoned_!"

"I'll make it up to you!" he promised as he opened the door.

"You'd better. And you tell Tavington he still owes me a bloody comb!" she raged as she strode around the bed. "He never did replace my one that he broke!"

Bordon chuckled and shut the door. Harmony shrieked, frustrated and picked up a pillow to throw at the closed door.

:::::::::

_Hopefully he'll be quick and I can get back to mollify Harm._ Bordon thought as he trotted through the corridors and down the wide staircase toward Putman's office. Bordon knew only too well how frustrating it was, to be so close to climax only to be hauled back from the brink. It left a person gasping, desolate and empty. Unfulfilled. As he was feeling just then - he'd been close himself, after all.

"What is this about?" He growled at Arthur, who kept pace with him.

"He'll tell you," Arthur said softly. "Though I don't know what he thinks you'll do about it."

Bordon frowned at the cryptic remark but before he could quiz the young Corporal further, they had arrived at William's office. Bordon spied Wilkins and several other Officers milling in the hallway outside the parlor a little further along the hall, each wearing a grave expression.

"Well, apparently they know what this is about," Bordon muttered. He opened the door without knocking and entered - leaving Arthur to join his comrades down the hall.

"This better be good," Richard announced as he shut the door. "Harmony's in a right rage upstairs."

William made no response as Bordon crossed the room to sit across from him. The Colonel stared at Bordon in stony silence, his expression thunderous. The Major quirked his eyebrows with surprise, but continued in the same vein, assuming William would tell him what was wrong when he was ready.

"We were in the middle of celebrating, as you damned well know," he said now. "And because of your summons, she didn't get to finish off. I think she threw a pillow at the door when I walked out on her."

Still nothing. William tightened his lips, it was clear to Bordon he was only paying half a mind to the one sided conversation.

"Oh, before I forget, you owe her a new comb," the Major said.

Still no response from William so Bordon fell silent finally, leaning back in the chair to wait for the Commander to speak his mind. What ever had happened, what ever the calamity, it couldn't have come at a worse time! This was a time for rejoicing. They had just been promoted, for Christ sake!

_MAJOR_ Bordon! Richard was still walking on clouds.

Without so much a smile, William wordlessly slid a broadsheet - the 'Anglican Bulletin' across the desk toward Richard.

"What's this?" He asked, picking up the broadsheet and scanning its contents.

When he spoke, William's voice was colder than a winter's night.

"The Official Publication of Miss Elizabeth Martin's formal betrothal to Colonel Harry Burwell."

Each word was pronounced deliberately in a crisp tone. Richard glanced up and met William's gaze, shocked to the core.

"Jesus Christ!" He whispered finally.

William held his silence, staring darkly as Richard began to read the publication for himself. He stared at Beth's name with disbelief.

"I'm sorry, William," he said finally, tossing the broadsheet to the desk in front of him.

Rising stiffly, his face stony and unyielding, William stepped away from the desk to stand before the window.

"He must know I'll come after her," he drawled finally without turning. "Her father. Damned bastard is marrying her off in an effort to put Beth out of my reach."

"Perhaps," Richard frowned at William's back. As disturbing as this news was, Richard was uncertain why Tavington had summoned him. Arthur had been right, he could do nothing about this, not a damned thing. The only thing he _could_ do was listen, for there was not a damned thing he could say that would make this any easier for William to bear.

Tavington's jaw worked, his fists clenched and relaxed, clenched again.

"If she is married before I reach her father's plantation," William finally continued in a dark tone full of menace. "I'll scour South Carolina until I find her. Until I find _him._" His voice lowered, filled with banked fury. "Burwell, I will kill. And her father..." He trailed off, Bordon could hear the other mans teeth grinding.

"I'd do no less," he admitted, thinking of Harmony. "If worse comes to worse, that is. We want Burwell in hand in any case - we could capture him, hang him. Your Beth would be a widow, free to marry you."

Tavington glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise - that Bordon was not trying to talk him out of such a drastic course of action.

For Bordon, he felt it highly unlikely that they'd find Beth once she was married. Even if they did, she would probably be carrying Burwell's baby. He couldn't imagine that Tavington would be willing to raise another man's child. Still, if William did choose that course of action, Bordon would be at his side.

For now, he chose to keep his opinions to himself for William was too filled with rage and the need to _act_ to think clearly just then.

With a slight nod of acknowledgement, William turned back to stare out the window.

Perplexed, Richard leaned back in his seat and studied Tavington carefully, wondering exactly what it was that the Colonel wanted from him just then. There was nothing he could do about the engagement, no way to stop Beth from marrying another man. No, William needed something from him, though it was doubtful even the Colonel knew what that was.

Falling back to rational thinking, Bordon picked over the facts and details as he knew them. The woman William loved was about to marry another man - William's enemy at that. The enemy Officers had faced one another in the field, marking and scarring each other as they fought in the fray. And now the enemy officer was about to 'get the girl'.

How would Bordon feel, if he were in Tavington's shoes? Furious, jealous. Heartsore, impotent, _helpless_ for there really was _NOTHING_ William could do about it. Burwell and Benjamin Martin were both far from William's reach.

So, what could Bordon do about it? How could he help William now? The Colonel had summoned him after all, he wanted Bordon to do something…

_What would Banastre do? _Richard mused, tapping his lips with his finger as he stared at William's back. _How would he deal with this?_

Not as a fellow Officer of the military, but as a friend.

_He is edgy, he needs to be doing something, _Bordon thought now. _He needs to act, needs to… lash out!_

That was it - he finally got it! William needed an outlet for his rage! Bordon abruptly realised exactly how he could help William now.

"Sir, I feel like heading out tonight," he began. "Not to our regular haunts, but somewhere a little more… Uncivilised. The docks perhaps? There are plenty little taverns of the more… rugged kind."

William turned back from the window and tilted his chin, gazing down at Bordon with an interested expression.

"We'll get Wilkins and the boys, hmm?" Bordon continued. "Lets say you we forget this mandate you have put out - I feel like getting thoroughly soused. Perhaps start a fight or two…"

"We will need to wear our day clothes," William mused softly. "It won't do to be seen in our Uniforms."

"I couldn't agree more," Richard said as he rose from his seat. "The dockside taverns mind - I want to taste the seedier side of Charles Town this evening."

"We shan't be recognised there, either," William confirmed, then continued darkly, "this could be just the thing. If I cant deal with Burwell or Martin, the damned rebel bastards, then any Patriot will do."

Bordon grinned. "My thoughts exactly. And after we've had our fill of pummelling Patriots at the dockside taverns, we'll get ourselves a doxy or too and spend the rest of the night tumbling."

"Very good," the Colonel nodded decisively and followed Bordon from the Office. The other Officers were still milling about, waiting uncertainly. When they saw the Commandant and Adjutant emerge, they came to attention - gazing warily at William.

"We've decided to head out for the evening," Richard announced now, addressing them all. "To celebrate our promotions. You coming?"

"Hell yes," Wilkins face split into a grin and the other men relaxed also, all of them exchanging pleased smiles.

The Officers changed into their usual clothes and headed out, even though the late afternoon sun was still shining brightly. They called and laughed to one another as they mounted their horses and headed from the yard.

Only William was resolutely silent, his face still dark and stormy. His eyes, however - they were narrowed and focused. His fists tensed with the need to punch something. A small, cruel smile of anticipation curled the edges of his mouth and Bordon almost felt pity for the Patriots they planned to encounter that night.

He hoped that William's affliction would be far easier to bear after he'd had a fight or two. When he was thoroughly crocked and embedded deep inside a two shilling whore, Bordon doubted William would be thinking of Beth at all.

::::::::

**_Wednesday 21_****_st_****_ June - Evening_**

Pain flared in his jaw and Richard could taste the sharp metallic tang of his own blood.

"Wanna have another go, do yeh?" The Patriot bellowed.

Bordon wiped his hand across his face, glanced down to see the glistening dark spot of blood on his leather glove. Lifting his gaze, he smiled at the Patriot.

"Hell, yes," he stated, then his left hook struck toward the grizzly man's unshaven jaw. It was merely a feint however. The rebel blocked the blow but Bordon cut in low to punch the man's fleshy stomach. The rebel groaned and bent over himself, clutching his gut and gasping for breath.

Richard glanced around briefly to see how his comrades were faring. Colonel Tavington, Captain Wilkins, the Middleton twins, Corporal Arthur Simms, Private Brownlow and Ensign Dalton - the latter both British born and bred. The men were fighting valiantly in the confines of the shoddy taverns common room, despite the greater numbers of rebels fighting them. There was a roar of noise, men bellowing with pain and anger, screaming insults, taunts and threats.

The evening had started out tame enough, but that hadn't lasted long. The Officers intended to spend the evening drinking a rioting, fighting Patriot Colonials. They rode directly to the docks where the coarsest of inns could be found, drinking a round or two of whiskey at each of them. They found card games here, dice games there, becoming increasingly drunk as the evening wore on. None of the pubs had met their requirements, however and so they had moved on, stumbling now as they continued their search.

Finally, they stopped, swaying and weaving on their feet before _the_ tavern, gazing up at the sign above the door. The paint on the sign was chipped and fading against the wood, but they could still read the writing. "Abbotts Tavern", with a picture of a wine bottle and a keg of ale drawn above it.

What caught their attention however, was the tiny little flag that had been painted in the upper left corner of the sign. It was clear the flag was a recent addition to the sign, for the paint depicting it was bold and bright, almost glaring against the brown wood. The small flag bore thirteen rows of horizontal stripes, alternating red then white, red then white. And a circle of thirteen white, five pointed stars on a field of blue in the canton - the corner box of the flag.

This was the flag which had been gaining popularity amongst the Patriots, it represented their Cause and their unity. If the owner of the inn would go to the trouble of painting that flag onto his sign, then it was clear he wished only fellow Patriots to patron his fine establishment. It was doubtful that Loyalists would be welcome, and British soldiers? Certainly not.

The hum of noise coming from within was an indication of how full the tavern common room was. Any sensible Loyalist would continue on his merry way, to enjoy the evening amongst like minded people. Not so Tavington, Bordon and the lads.

"I think we've found what we were looking for, boys!" Bordon announced drunkenly. The un-uniformed soldiers exchanged expectant smiles - all except William who still wore that focused, deadly expression.

Finally, the evening could truly begin. They filed into the taverns common room. All seemed peaceful enough, men sitting at the tables, drinking and gambling, a low hum of noise. Tavington led the way deeper into the room toward an empty table. They received the occasional odd glance from the other patrons but no one spoke to them or made any move to challenge them as they took seats around their chosen table.

Though no signal was given, the out of uniform Officers immediately began to speak loudly, their words designed to deliberately provoke the Patriot's.

Tavington was silent throughout, his gaze cold and intent. Bordon, Brownlow and Dalton made up for him, however. They pitched their voices high, speaking loudly enough for their British accents to be heard a few tables away.

Instantly the other patrons began to tense, falling silent and glaring at the newcomers. Though they were becoming increasingly strained, still none of them offered challenge. That was until Wilkins began speaking of Loyalty and the good King George in the loudest voice he could muster. The situation began to heat up then, and it escalated quickly.

"Sir," a rough voice called from another table. The coarse voice belonged to an older man, grizzly and unshaven. "You need to sit down and shut the Hell up."

"Sorry, Sir," Wilkins rose from his seat and called back across the room. He hung his head with feigned contrition. "I dare say you are quite right. Shall I buy you a drink, good Sir? Hell, I'll buy the entire tavern a round, what say you?"

This was met with grumbles of reconciliation as the rebels thought Wilkins was trying to smooth their ruffled feathers. Besides, not a single one of them would say 'no' to a complimentary drink, even if the one paying was a Loyalist.

But then Wilkins continued…

"I know, we'll drink a toast!" He called out enthusiastically, glancing around the table at his companions. "To the grace and longevity of His Majesty King George!"

"Here here!" The Loyalists called and drank their whiskeys down, slamming their goblets to the table and drunkenly patting each other on the back.

A deadly hush descended in the common room as the Patriots were silenced. The entire lot of them, at least twenty-five men, tensed and stiffened.

Wilkins, sensing he achieved the desired outcome, sat down with a very contented and smug smile.

"You, my lads, need to leave," a lone rebel a few tables away spoke into the silence, standing up and stepping into the aisle between the tables. "Before it starts getting hairy in here."

It was clear he was trying to do the Gentlemanly thing and give the boys the opportunity to escape before a fray began.

Tavington eyed the Patriot up and down. The rebel was tall, lean, broad of shoulders. Strong and muscular under his jacket and vest, clearly he was a fighting man. Dark of hair - blue of eyes. Much like Tavington himself only the Colonial gentleman was older, by fifteen years or so. His face was lined with approaching age. His features were common to these parts but this particular man was oddly reminiscent of Colonel Burwell. Indeed, by his looks, the man could have been Burwell's slightly younger brother.

He fit the bill exactly, Tavington finally had a the target he craved. The poor soul on which he could exact his vengeance and release his blood fury.

All William needed now was another rebel of about the same age as this one, but with blonde hair and brown eyes the same as Beth's. That was how he imagined Benjamin Martin to look, being under the assumption that Beth took after her father.

So, another rebel approaching middle age but with blonde hair and brown eyes. Ah, the night would then be complete.

He would settle for what the sweet Lord had chosen to provide for him, however. He'd been spoiling for a fight all evening but so far, the other taverns had not accommodated him. His fury over Beth's engagement was such that he needed something to punch, something to smash! Deprived of Burwell and Martin, he didn't truly care who the person was. By now, any damned Patriot would do.

"Ah, but its hairy we desire," the wrath filled Tavington drawled, also rising to his feet.

He shoved his stool back from his legs - it scraped loudly across the floor. He had not drunk as much as the other Officers, choosing not to dull his anger and thirst for vengeance. He wanted to be focused, a knocked and drawn arrow. He wanted to spill blood, to flay the bastards alive. The hilt of the dagger he kept down the inside of one boot pressed firmly into his leg as he moved. Tavington's lips curled in a cruel and dangerous smile.

"Damned English dandies are not welcome here," the man who could have been Burwell's twin growled, low and menacing. "I'll give you this last chance for you and your companions to leave. You're being here can only end in your death."

As Burwell's twin was not privy to Tavington's ulterior motive for being in the tavern, the Patriot thought he could talk the Officer down from a fight and send him on his way. With menacing expressions, the other Patriots waited to discover Tavington's decision.

A dark chuckle escaped William's lips and he stepped away from the table.

Then, to Bordon's utter horror, William strode away from the safety of his comrades, marching purposefully into the Patriot's midst. He stalked across the room toward the rebel man - the one he had chosen to confront one on one. William finally stopped dead when he was directly in front of the man, the two standing toe to toe.

William's comrades were at least four tables away, a good ten yards separating them, with too many enemies between. Cursing like a sailor, Bordon immediately jumped to his feet. William was on his own amongst a sea of enemies and Bordon quickly rushed in to offer reinforcement. When he reached him, he turned - putting had his back to Tavington's, to gaze warily at the other Patriots as they all began to stand and step away from the tables.

"Have you got a Goddamned death wish?" Richard hissed over his shoulder at Tavington. A deadly chuckle was William's answer and Bordon cursed again. Yes, Tavington had a Goddamned death wish.

The rebels began circling the tables, slowly closing in. But the other Loyalists had reached Bordon and Tavington by now, each of them taking up positions in a lose circle, each facing outward, protecting one anothers backs. Their Commanders - both Tavington and Bordon, had entered danger and the Officers would not abandon them. Even when the Patriots formed a circle of their own, two men deep, surrounding the Loyalists completely.

Inside the circle made up of rebels, Tavington and Burwell's double faced off. Their sharp blue eyes locked, both tense but ready.

"A fighting man are you?" William drawled softly, recognising it in the other man's stance. Well, so was William... He smiled tauntingly and repeated the other man's warning back to him. "Well, I'll give you this last chance to leave. You're being here can only end in your death."

"You're outnumbered three or four to one," Burwell's twin muttered.

"I'd say the numbers are even then," William stately quite seriously. He was not boasting, merely imparting a simple truth. "What say you, Bordon?" He called over his shoulder without taking his eyes off his rebel.

"Even, Sir," came Bordon's curt reply. He somehow managed to keep both of his eyes on every rebel in the common room at once.

"Sir? A soldier then. An Officer, looking to have some fun," the rebel curled his lip with disdain. Mildly amused, William wondered what the man would say if he revealed himself. Colonel William Tavington, The Butcher of the Colonies, come out to play. The rebel continued, "your friend is right, you do have a death wish."

"Perhaps," William smirked, then his gaze sharpened again, his tone became deadly. "Care to dance with the Devil?"

"Oh, Hell yes," Burwell's twin smiled cruelly. William's heart leapt - he'd chosen well, this man would give him the fight he needed.

"Now see here!" The taverns owner darted in, hoping to stop the coming fight. "John - stop this now!"

"Too late, Amos," John, the rebel who so resembled Burwell, stated without taking his eyes from Tavington's. "I tried to talk some sense into them but they're too stupid to heed me."

"You won't be busting up my inn!" The innkeep rounded on the Loyalists in the centre circle.

"Oh, something tells me we _will_ be busting up your inn," Wilkins smirked. He stood a little further away from Tavington, on the other side of Bordon.

"What are you laughing for, boy?" One Patriot growled, his hard gaze settling on Wilkins. He was gearing himself up for the brawl and began delivering the customary 'pre-fight' threats. "That smile will be wiped off soon enough, when I mop the floor with your face."

"Oh, you don't want to mop the floor with my face," Wilkins shot back.

"No?" The rebel positioned himself, ready to attack. "Why's that?"

"Well, for a start, you won't be able to get into the corners very well," Wilkins answered insolently.

The unexpected quip startled Bordon from his keen and deadly vigil. He blinked at Wilkins with surprise, then began to howl with laughter.

A moment later, a very focused Tavington pulled his arm back and smashed his fist into John's face. The rebel's head twisted to the side but he kept his feet. Blood welled in the corner of the his mouth, dripping down to his chin. He lifted his hand absently and wiped it away.

Curling his lip with fury, he met William's gaze, sharp blue eyes piercing into steel-grey.

Like wild beasts, they hurled themselves at each other. Fists flew, sickening crunches as their knuckles found flesh. Legs kicked out, one trying to trip the other. They grappled and cursed, bleeding, neither giving an inch.

Meanwhile, around them the others started to brawl.

The fight had begun.

Bordon struggled at first, tears of mirth from Wilkins quip had blurred his vision. A sharp jab to his jaw sobered him quickly enough, the pain making him focus on the fight at hand.

Bordon, Wilkins, Simms, the Middleton's, Dalton and Brownlow held their circle, each man facing outward as the Patriots darted in as one. Tavington was one of the circle also but he was too intent on John - Burwell's twin - to give any thought to the rest of the fight.

Fists flew, punches met flesh, men lurched back and cursed, clutching at broken and bloody noses. Daggers were drawn but the efficient Officers disarmed their opponents and tossed the weapons aside. Unless Tavington said anything to the contrary, this was to be a fist fight only.

The inn keep disappeared, Bordon lost sight of him early on. He could barely hear himself think over the roar of noise from the fighting men. He was concentrating too hard on keep his position in the circle as waves of rebels came at him from all sides.

Eventually the circle broke but many of the rebels were down by then. Stepping and leaping over their unconscious forms laying haphazardly on the floor, the Dragoons brawled the remaining rebels. They were still out numbered, however. Wilkins leapt onto a table and kicked one rebel in the face. He was dragged off again, however, by several waiting Patriots. He disappeared to the floor but before Bordon could help him, Richard himself was tackled by two opponents at once. As fists flew, he caught sight of William - now a blur of motion in the centre of a small group of attacking Patriots.

Burwell's twin was already down and one by one the other rebels fell as William lashed out violently, unleashing his pent up fury.

That was all Bordon had time for before he entered into yet another boxing match with the rebels who had tackled him.

Suddenly the men began choking on smoke, fighting for air. Out of necessity, the hostilities ceased and the combatants glanced around with confusion. Thick black smoke was billowing around them, the inn was on fire. With only a few rebels still standing, there was not enough to help those unconscious on the floor.

Tavington curled his lip with distaste, but he waved his arm, giving the signal to help the standing rebels carry out their unconscious comrades to evacuate them from the blaze.

"Who started the fire?" William panted, unceremoniously dumping the rebel he had been carrying to the ground. The Loyalists began to convene, limping forward, wiping at bleeding lips, clutching at bleeding noses and cracked ribs.

"Sorry, Sir," Private Marcus Middleton huffed. His face was awash with blood from a deep cut above his eye. "It was an accident, I knocked over a lantern and it -"

"Doesn't matter," William stated.

A man laying sprawled on his back on the ground close by began to groan, drawing the Colonel's attention. Stepping up close, he gazed down at the familiar face in the light of the fire blazing through the windows. It was him, the first Patriot he'd fought who had so resembled Burwell. He looked nothing like the enemy Colonel now, with his face a bloody and swollen ruin. Kneeling down on one knee, Tavington reached into his boot and jerked out the long blade he had concealed there.

Sensing the danger, the man's eyes snapped open. One of his eyes, in any case - the other was swollen shut from their fight. He stared up at William one eyed, small gasps bursting from his lips as he eyed the blade, which glinted from the light of the nearby blaze. Tavington stared back, his expression implacable and filled with murder.

"William, its done," Bordon said at his side. He wouldn't stop the Colonel if he chose to kill the man, but if he could talk him back from the brink of murder, then it was worth a try.

After a long, tense filled moment, Tavington shoved the dagger back into the sheath in his boot, and rose to his feet once more. Pure, unadulterated relief crossed the rebels features as the Colonel glowered down at him.

Turning abruptly, he addressed his grave and silent men.

"Lets get the hell out of here before the guard comes," he said crisply, striding away from the rebel.

Now that _would_ be a disaster, Bordon was not so soused that he didn't recognise the danger at once. To be taken by their own Redcoats and hauled before Clinton for starting a fight and burning down an inn…

"Shit," he wheezed and the tension broke. They all began a lurching run to the rear of the inn. "Lets get to our horses."

By the time they rounded the tavern, smoke was pouring through the windows and the Officers were cackling with laughter. They mounted easily, despite their drunken state, and rode far from the scene of the crime.

::::::::::

The Officers had been drinking for many hours on the docks but the brief fight had sobered them. Nevertheless the time spent in the fresh night air on their way to the King's Arms amplified the effects of the whiskey. By the time they reached the tavern where Harmony worked, the boys were decidedly _unsober_ once more.

They trotted their horses into the yard then began the difficult task of dismounting while drunk. Arthur stumbled and tripped as soon as his feet touched the ground, Michael Middleton fell flat on his backside. He gazed up at Tavington, who made a far better showing of himself on _his_ dismount, and gave the Colonel a drunken wave from the ground. Tavington rolled his eyes and held his arm out to help the younger man to his feet.

Wilkins began calling for ale almost as soon as they entered the common room. The other patrons had been drinking and quietly playing at cards when the rowdy Officers filed in. All eyes turned to the drunken Dragoons, most watching with amusement as the crocked men tried to negotiate their way past the tables.

Finally the men were seated, Wilkins was still bellowing for ale when Harmony came in from the kitchens, bearing two plates filled with food.

"Jesus, what happened to you! Have you been fighting?" Harmony placed the dishes down on the table in front of the young Officers who had ordered the food, then rushed over to stand at Bordon's side.

The other patrons continued to watch, the newcomers were a sight - all of them, disheveled and bloodied.

"Yep, fighting," Wilkins said happily, drawing the attention of the other Redcoats and local Loyalist men to him. "Have I got a tale to tell you!"

Ignoring the others, Harmony began to fuss over Bordon.

"You stupid man, what of your wounds? Have any torn open?" Before he could answer, she took him by the hand to help him to his feet, then led him to the kitchens to clean him up.

"We're alright!" Brownlow called after Harmony, who shot him a furious glance over her shoulder. "Don't worry about us!"

"Whad'ya having, Colonel?" Simms slurred and swayed in his seat. "Whiskey or ale?"

"Whiskey," William said shortly.

How close he'd come to murdering that rebel! And all because he resembled Burwell. The fight had released some of his tension, his fury, but his mood was still dark and brooding.

Wilkins stood on the seat of his chair to begin regaling the other patrons of the nights events in a loud voice, waving his arms and throwing punches at the air to demonstrate.

When he was handed a whiskey, Tavington stared into his goblet, cheerless despite the joviality around him.

"He was taller than me, I swear!" Wilkins was saying amidst the chuckling. "But I pinned him down and got my arm around his neck, then Arthur kicked him!"

More laughter and Wilkins continued telling the story while enacting it out right there - almost toppling off his stool several times. Finally a cleaned up Bordon returned and took a seat beside William at the table. While everyone else in the common room wore smiles and laughed heartily at Wilkins display, William scowled darkly into his whiskey.

_"Colonel Burwell's a better man than you!"_

Beth's words boomed in the recesses of Tavington's mind, over and over again.

_"Colonel Burwell's a better man than you!"_

The words echoed throughout his head, giving him no peace. Nor could he rid himself of the vision of her, her face twisted with fury and disgust as she uttered them up at him.

And now she was to marry him - Colonel Burwell. Who in Beth's opinion was the 'better man'. William's grip tightened on his goblet to breaking point. Before the glass could smash, a gloved hand covered his, easing the goblet from his grip.

"Now for phase two of our night," Bordon said as he drew his hand back. The other Officers were oblivious to William's turmoil, their up turned gazes fixed on Wilkins antics as he battled with an invisible foe. "We've succeeded in getting you thoroughly pummeled, now its time to get you thoroughly rogered."

It was not entirely true - William had held his own quite well during the fight. Still, he was covered with bruises, the same as Bordon. After Harmony had cleaned him up, Richard had glanced at his reflection in a mirror and winced to see the bruises and swelling all over his face.

"She told me that Colonel Burwell was the better man, do you remember?" William hissed, his voice pitched low for Bordon's ears alone. Not that he needed to worry about being over heard, his drunken comrades were laughing uproariously and adding their bits to Wilkins retelling.

"I remember, William," Bordon sighed heavily. "She didn't mean it. Mrs. Tisdale had just told her of your affair with her and with those other women. We all say hurtful things when we're angry."

"Then why did she leave me?" William fixed his gaze on Bordon, his eyes demanding an answer. His face was still covered with dirt and blood, he had not bothered to try and clean himself up. Nor had any of the other men. His right eye was already purple and swollen from being punched, and there were bruises along his jaw. His face was still stone cold and hard, however.

William had held his silence for most of the evening but he was finally ready to discuss the issue - with Bordon, at least. Bordon, however, was not entirely certain exactly how to manage a vengeful and broken hearted Tavington and silently wished Banastre were there to take over.

"We both know why she left, William," he replied quietly. "She was probably afraid because of what she did. Conflicted, confused and downright scared. She didn't leave because she felt Colonel Burwell was better than you."

"She would've accepted my marriage proposal," William whispered furiously, searching for a new focus for his anger, "if it weren't for Miss _fucking_ Tisdale. _Fucking_ Mrs. Ferguson. She told Beth about me and Linda."

William drew a sharp breath, his shoulders tensing as he wound himself tighter.

"Ah, there's Mariah," Bordon said brightly, trying to turn William's thoughts from Beth, from Mary Ferguson, from Colonel Burwell. "You should grab her now before another does."

"What if she welcomes this marriage, hmm?" William asked without even looking up at Mariah.

"I'm certain she is merely being dutiful. Most women don't have much choice in their husbands," Bordon assured William. "Shall I call Mariah over?"

"And now she's on the Goddamned Santee, in her Goddamned father's house, sitting nice and safe," William curled his lip, caught up in a storming rant. "But she is not far enough, I tell you. By Christ, I vow, she'll never be far enough to escape me. She still needs to answer for her treason as you and I both know. I'll get to her before she marries him, there's still two banns to be read."

Bordon didn't bother arguing how unlikely it was that William would get to Beth before she was married. He personally believed her father would have Beth safely married and away with Burwell before William ever set out for the Santee. There were other holes in Tavington's spitting rant that Bordon left unanswered. The man was drunk, angry, grief-stricken and it was doubtful that he could be reasoned with.

William threw back his whiskey, drinking it one gulp. Swaying on his seat, he glanced around, his cloudy gaze finally settling on Mariah across the common room. She was smiling, laughing at some quip made by a Redcoat Officer.

"She's not as pretty as Beth," he complained.

"Not many are," Bordon agreed. "Except my Harmony of course."

"Yes, your Harmony is a beauty. And faithful to you, trustworthy. She'd never betray you," William curled his lip and scowled. "Not like my Patriot Beth."

"She did warn Arthur, remember?" Bordon said, trying to put as much cheer into his voice as possible.

"How the fuck could I fall in love with a Patriot, hmm?" William stabbed a finger at Bordon and teetered forward on his chair, almost losing his balance, the whiskey finally taking a hold of him. He righted himself and sat back again. "I ask you that!"

"There's no reasoning with love," Bordon laughed. "Christ, what a question to ask. You must be pissed!"

"Not pissed enough," William muttered darkly, "thoughts of her plague me."

Bordon had nothing to say to this admission and he made no protest when William grabbed up Bordon's whiskey and drank that back too.

"Come, William," Bordon slapped the Colonel on the back. "There is only one cure for this… This… What ever this is."

Bordon wasn't quite certain what his companion would be feeling and he doubted William knew for certain either. He was swinging wildly from fury to despair, outrage to heartbreak. All he knew for certain was that it was time to get William well and truly rogered.

"Mariah, you said?" William puffed his lips angrily.

"And Sandra, perhaps? You're at such depths, I'd say it'd take the two of them to drag you back out."

"Hmm, that sounds like just the thing," William rose unsteadily from his seat and stumbled back from the table.

"Oho!" Wilkins called to Tavington as the Colonel teetered across the common room. "Colonel Tavington has the right idea!" He jumped off the chair too suddenly and went sprawling to the floor, much to the amusement of those around him.

"Ah, Colonel," Mariah smiled at William as he approached her. "I heard of your promotion, congratulations."

"Thank you," he said shortly. He tried to stand still but the drink had him weaving dangerously back and forth in front of her.

"I see you've been celebrating," she laughed up at him. "Would you care to continue the upstairs?"

Linda, who lived in a room at the tavern - paid for by Tavington - caught sight of her lover and began to approach with a warm smile. Mariah caught Linda's gaze and wondered if she would protest make protest over Mariah coupling with her lover. If so, Mariah would hold her ground. William had approached _her_, after all and he paid too damned well for her to give him up to Linda easily.

"Yes, I would like that," Tavington said. Linda's smile slipped and she stopped dead. Her distress heightened when Tavington continued callously, "fetch Sandra too, would you?"

"Not Linda?" Mariah frowned, seeing the shock in the other woman's face.

"No, you and Sandra." William said, heedless of Linda's distress.

"Alright," Mariah said slowly. Though it pained her to see Linda's hurt expression, she brushed past Tavington and said, "I'll go get Sandra, then we'll go upstairs."

William's eyes followed her as she strolled away, her hips swaying suggestively. His eyes fell on Linda again, noting her hurt expression. Instead of being moved, he rolled his eyes and blew out an angry breath.

"I'll take you home afterward," he said, shrugging carelessly.

"Well, we could just go back now," Linda whispered hopefully, coming forward to place her hand on William's chest. She gazed up at him with longing, and reached up her other hand to trace the cut on his lip gently. With a concerned expression, she continued softly, "my poor dear heart, your covered in bruises."

Fury surged through him. His steel grey eyes flashed and he jerked his head back, recoiling from her touch. Linda's eyes widened and she caught her breath, staring up at him with shock.

"Don't call me that!" He hissed down at her, his eyes piercing and murderous. "Only Beth calls me that!"

She was still close to him - too close. Her hand was still pressed to his chest - her eyes imploring. Her chagrin meant nothing to him - if anything, it made him even more furious. Dear heart - he would not suffer another woman to call him that again until he had Beth in his arms. Curling his fingers around Linda's slim wrist, he gripped it cruelly then shoved her back from him.

Linda's heart pounded, tears filling her eyes, threatening to fall. William shoved past her, his shoulder knocking the stunned woman aside as he began to make his way toward Mariah who was returning with Sandra.

"William," Linda called to him desperately, her voice filled with hurt, but he ignored her. Never once since he'd taken her as his lover had he promised to be faithful to her. As far as he was concerned, she had no cause to complain if he took another woman to his bed for the night.

Or two women.

Winding one arm over Mariah's shoulders and the other over Sandra's, William began to make his way to the door at the back of the common room.

Linda could only watch with despair as her lover stumbled up the stairs to couple with two other women.

::::::::

_A/N: Sorry for taking so long with this chapter! I've busy racing ahead with the story, typing as fast as my fingers can type, getting the next few chapters written as inspiration came to me (or as it was provided to me - thank you JScorpio! I'll be posting your Bordon chapters soon!)._

_Disclaimer: the exchange between Wilkins & the rebel (the rebel threatening to mop the floor __with wilkins face - was not mine. I found the joke on the Internet and it made me laugh out loud - so I had to use it!_

_Ms A: I hope Tavi's reaction met you expectations in this chapter! Its hard to know what to do with a heartbroken, down in the dumps Tavi but I just can't see him crying into his whiskey... I think his heartfelt discussion with Bordon at the end there - where he's expressing his concerns and frustrations - was as open as he would ever get. I see him as the 'bottling it up' type, he would only show anger and jealousy easily - not the more unmanning emotions like heart break... Thanks for another awesome review for the previous chapter, and again - sorry for taking so long!_


	43. Chapter 43 - Bordon's Indiscretion

**_Wednesday 21_****_st_****_ June - midnight _**

Back in his chamber at Mark Putman's residence, Bordon poured himself a whiskey and sat heavily in the chair at his writing desk. What a night it had been, his knuckles were on fire from all the blows he'd dealt to the rebels - his fists had flown - left, right and centre! Luckily he'd been wearing his gloves, or his knuckles would be scraped raw. His wounds were killing him - as they were prone to do when he over exerted himself. When the Devil was he going to start remembering that he'd only faced off against Marion five short days ago? Most men would still be bedridden for Christ's sake! But Bordon had far too many duties to be allowed such a luxurious recovery period.

Tonight was not the first night he'd been thoroughly soused - he found it helped to numb him from the pain - for the most part, anyway. Besides, the wounds were all knitting cleanly - no sign of infection. Lots of long, dark pink slashes criss-crossing his flesh, joining the patterns of his older, silvery wounds. They'd heal eventually, like all the others.

As Bordon began to sip his whiskey his thoughts lingered on the events of the evening. It occurred to him to wonder - belatedly - if perhaps he should have silenced Wilkins when the Captain began regaling the tavern with details of the fight and the burnt out inn. The whole idea of the Dragoons venturing out in their ordinary day clothes had been to avoid attention - and detection. He shrugged to himself - it would have been useless to have silenced Wilkins, for Bordon remembered now that Tavington had called him by name in front of that rebel - that John fellow who William had fought one on one.

News of so many Patriots beaten and bloodied - and the blazed inn - would surely reach Clinton's ear soon enough. What would the Commander in Chief have to say about it? Bordon shuddered and pushed the thought aside. He had no desire to linger on something so worrisome just then.

He turned his thoughts to Harmony instead. His beautiful Colonial with her long blonde locks, her fine figure and her bright blue eyes. And her wicked, nasty, down right frustrating sense of humour.

_"Come dear heart," Harmony whispered in Bordon's ear and tugged on his hand at the same time. "I've got ten minutes."_

_Bordon smiled brightly and lurched up from his chair. He stumbled away with Harmony, ignoring the taunting calls and whistles coming from Wilkins and the boys, still playing cards at the table. He'd been waiting for Harmony to take a break from work for hours! Or so it seemed to him. Time had dragged on, while he watched her moving between the tables supplying drinks to the other patrons and flashing them with her beautiful smile. He wanted that smile all to himself and found it beyond frustrating that she could only spare him a moment here and there. Why she must continue working was beyond him! It was a major source for contention between them though Bordon had learned not complain about it for it always led to arguments between the otherwise happy couple. _

_Besides, it was **his** hand she was pulling on just then. **Bordon** she was guiding through the tables to the rooms at the back of the inn. The other patrons all knew that Harmony was his mistress and most had learned to keep their hands off. That would have to be enough for him, for now. Harmony opened the door leading to a small chamber - large enough for two chairs and a small table. Odds and ends lined the shelves and cluttered the floor, Bordon assumed the chamber served primarily as a storage room._

_"We won't be disturbed in here," Harmony said, closing the door behind them. "No one comes in here."_

_"Good," was all he had time for before she pressed herself to him, melting against his body. Her arms crept around his shoulders and she tilted her head back, pulling him down to kiss her. Which he did, of course. His lips moved across hers - a gentle brush at first. _

_"My, Miss Jutland," he whispered against her lips, feeling mischievous, "y__ou must have impure intentions toward me indeed - to bring me in here! Pray tell, what is your purpose, what will you do with me, hmm?"_

_"We have unfinished business, Sir," came the breathy reply. "I thought we could continue were we left off."_

_"Ah, indeed we can. I like that idea very much," Bordon smiled down at her, raising one hand to trace her cheek gently. She leaned into his hand with a sigh and turned her face to catch the tip of first his finger with her lips. _

_"Then take a seat, dear heart," she whispered, drawing away from him. Bordon grinned with anticipation and obeyed her command eagerly. He sat in the chair and Harmony edged closer to push his legs apart with her skirt covered knee. When she stood between his legs, she leaned over him. Cupping his face with her hands, she began kissing him again - deeper this time. Richard's hands began bunching up her skirts, pulling them up her legs. With one hand still holding her skirts, he snaked his other hand between her legs to caress her, his fingers delving into her folds._

_"Hmm, thats nice," Harmony whispered against his lips. "But allow me."_

_She said the words that every man longed to hear. Her hands moved down to his belt buckle and in short order his buttons were opened and his breeches were down around his thighs. And then Harmony - smiling into his eyes - knelt before him. Bordon sighed heavily. His fingers continued to caress her cheek softly as she took him into her mouth. He watched her work him - the thickness of his shaft disappearing into her wide, open mouth. And then she glanced up at him, meeting his eyes, he could tell she was smiling despite his cock filling her so completely. It almost undid him, seeing that smile. Knowing that she loved working him in this way. Back down went her head and Bordon brushed aside a lock of her hair that had come free, still watching her avidly all the while. Her tongue stroked him as she worked her way back up to suckle the tip and her fingers curled beneath his sack to massage gently. _

_Bordon, of course, was in heaven. His fingertips gently stroked her face, her neck and shoulders, any bare skin he could reach. They twined gently through her bound hair then drew free to caress her cheeks again. _

_"Ah, Christ," Richard whispered. He soon began to pant, rolling his hips up and down in time with her. The moist sounds of her sucking him drove him wild, drove him further to the edge. His cock began to twitch and his breath hitched. His hands on her shoulders now, his fingers digging in with passion. "I'm close," he whispered, rocking his hips faster now. "So close."_

_Harmony's lips had formed a tight ring at the base of his cock. That ring pulled up the length of him as she lifted her head back up, her tongue working languidly all the way. Bordon held his breath, almost about to come. Just one more up and down inside her lips and he would be complete._

_Harmony knew it of course, he had been her lover for long enough - she knew the ways of his body. Instead of bobbing back down to give him the release he was yearning for, she let him slip out of her mouth with a pop._

_"Oh, are you darling?" She commiserated from her knees, her head tilted back to study him. Her eyes danced with amusement. "Oh, yes, I can see that you are."_

_She pulled her hand away from his sack and Bordon, his eyes glazed, frowned down at her with confusion while his cock ached and twitched with need. All sensation had ceased the moment she'd drawn off from his length and it left him feeling frustrated and empty._

_"Harm?" He drew enough of a breath to utter._

_"Sorry, darling," Harmony said in mock commiseration. She rose from her knees and dusted her skirts, already moving away from him. And Bordon suddenly realised what she had really been up to, the bloody little minx! Harmony continued, "duty calls, darling. I must away!"_

_"Harmony!" Bordon growled, surging to his feet and jerking his breeches up at the same time. "Don't you dare!"_

_"Oh, but I can't darling!" She reached the door, her hand on the handle. "Its Mr. Ingles - he's my commander! He'd have me in irons!"_

_"He would bloody not!" Holding his breeches up with one hand, Richard reached for her with his other but she skipping out of reach and yanked open the door, laughing all the while. "Christ bloody damn it!" He cursed._

_Bordon raged for several minutes as his fingers fumbled at his buttons until he finally began to calm. Even now his cock was hard and aching, raging at him for its sudden confinement. __Such a trick to play on him! And then to throw his own excuses back at him - or an altered version of them, in any case. Damn and blast it! He threw open the door and stomped through the inn to begin a search for her, only to encounter her in the hallway._

_"I'll make it up to you!" Harmony promised as soon as she saw him. Again throwing his words at him. He growled but before he could grab her - and drag her back into the chamber to damn well finish what she'd started! - She slipped into the kitchens where she blew him a kiss at the door before disappearing inside._

"Damned vixen," Bordon laughed fondly - _now_. He'd been quite put out with her at the time however - though he knew it was his own fault. He'd done it to her that very afternoon, leaving her wanting, to answer William's summons. But Harmony would not be coming to the Putman's that night, she'd be going home to her own little room above the cobblers shop not far from the tavern - that damned independence again! And so he would not be able to see her again the following day.

He could go to her, sleep with her in her little room… He lifted his eyebrows, the idea was quite inciting. But Harmony would not be finished her shift for sometime yet. But his cock was raging for her now!

His dilemma was solved when his bed chamber door opened and Mage Putman slipped in. She shut the door quietly behind her, then leaned back against it to gaze down at him nervously. Bordon gazed back with increasing amusement.

"Is there something I can… _assist_ you with, Mrs. Putman?" he asked her finally, knowing full well that the woman wanted her itch scratched.

"I.. Ah…" She licked her lips, her hands trembling at her sides.

"Let me guess," Bordon said snidely. "You realised I had come home, and you've come in here and have your wicked way with me."

Mage closed her eyes as if praying, her hand twitched toward the door knob. Bordon didn't try and stop her, he knew she would not leave.

"Well come on then," he eyed her lewdly. He let his legs drop apart and began unbuckling his belt. "I'm helpless - entirely at your mercy - as you can see. Come and defile me."

"You, Sir, are no Gentleman," Mage accused.

"Who came to whose room?" Bordon asked. He lifted his rump off the chair and shoved his breeches down to his knees before dropping heavily back to his seat. His cock sprang free, already hard and eager after Harmony's mean prank. Mage swallowed as her eyes lingered on it. Bordon sipped his whiskey and waited for her.

"I don't know why I keep allowing this to happen," she said as she came closer. "I despise you."

"You say the most charming things, my lover!" Bordon laughed up at her. "Such passion, such romance! As for why you allow it to happen…" He paused when she drew within arms reach. Placing his whiskey on the desk, freeing his hands. He took his time, slowly lifting her shift to reveal her smooth, pale thighs. "Its because your husband is away and you, my dear, have been left to starve."

Mage had no answer for him, she held her silence and kept her eyes closed, as his fingers began exploring her womanhood.

"Open your legs, Mage," Bordon commanded, his eyes fixed on the dark patch of blonde curls between her legs. She sighed heavily and parted her legs. Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders to brace herself. Bordon continued to caress her folds, his finger dipping in to circle her hardened quim. Mage bit her lip, gnawing. She had to concentrate on her breathing, and on keeping her legs steady. Hence her hold on his shoulders, without which she would have dropped to the floor.

"We could lay down, you know," she whispered as his fingers dipped lower to her entrance and back up to her nub.

"In the bed I couple in with Harmony?" Bordon scoffed. "I hardly think so."

"Is that your idea of being faithful to her then?" Mage whispered. Her hips began to move back and forth, urging his fingers to glide along the length of her.

Bordon shrugged. It was his idea of being faithful to Harmony, in a way. Besides, his main motive for bedding Mage was so he had something to taunt Putman with. Once they left Charles Town, Bordon would be faithful to his Harmony.

"Oh God," Mage moaned, signalling that her pleasure was building. There would be no more talking now, from either of them. No taunts, no declarations of hatred or contempt. They would get down to the business of 'fucking' now, which suited Bordon just fine.

He moved his hands to her hips and pulled her closer, guided her until she had one leg on either side of him. Then he gripped his cock and positioned it as she placed her hands on his shoulders again and lowered herself onto his length. They both sighed with pleasure when he impaled her. They made no attempt to kiss - each ignoring the other except for what was necessary to reach climax. Mage began to roll her pelvis back and forth, Bordon rocked his pelvis up and down. He squeezed her hips with his fingers, the two surging fluidly as Mage rode him. Moving one hand to her front again, Bordon began working on her quim with the tips of his fingers. He enjoyed it - very much - when the woman climaxed first, for his cock would be squeezed ever so pleasantly when her walls began to contract with her orgasm. And so he gripped her hips with one hand to guide her, and fingered her quim, while she panted and bounced on his length.

Finally Mage cried out and dropped her head to Bordon's shoulder. As he had hoped, he could feel the force of her climax around his shaft and he growled. He gripped her waist now, lifted her and shoved her down on him, over and over until he too cried out and came, in great spurts, deep inside her.

It took a while to calm, the impartial lovers breathing heavily, their hearts racing. Finally, because she knew he would shove her off at any moment now, Mage stood abruptly. His semi hard member slipped out of her as she moved back. She shoved her shift down and tidied her hair, then turned her back on him. The quicker she returned to her own room, the quicker she could wipe away his seed, which was already beginning to drip out of her, making her thighs slick.

"Its always a pleasure, my dear," he taunted from behind her. Mage stiffened, then with as much dignity as she could muster, she left the chamber without saying another word.

Bordon laughed to himself. Leaning back against the chair, he picked up his glass and resumed drinking. His breeches were still around his calfs, but he was feeling too replete - and too soused, to do anything about it for the moment.

::::::

The Dragoons guarding the front of the Putman manor house let Harmony in without question. Before she could make a step toward the wide staircase, one of the men lit a candle and passed it to her, to light her way. Harmony smiled gratefully - she'd been to the manor quite a few times of course but she didn't know her way so well that she could walk it in the dark.

She lifted her skirts to the ankle, holding them aloft with her free hand as she began to climb the stairs. Harmony had begun to feel guilty for her little trick - her revenge - as soon as she entered the common room and saw that Richard's seat was empty. She asked Wilkins and the boys were he'd gone and they told her Richard had gone home.

Almost immediately, her heart had sunk and she began feeling wretched. Not that he hadn't deserved it for leaving her in the state she'd been in earlier! But he had been doing his duty, Tavington certainly would have hauled him over the coals if he hadn't answered the summons immediately.

Winding her way through the many patrons, she had approached Mr. Ingles - the barkeep and owner of the tavern, and told him she wanted to go home. After one glance around the room, Ingles decided he could afford to let Harmony go - he had enough barmaids on duty. If it came to it, he himself could circle the tables, though he knew the men preferred much prettier servants! Harmony had known Ingles would let her leave, he was quite considerate of his girls and she had been working harder than most recently.

Now she reached the top of the stairwell and she began to make her way down the hall to Bordon's room, the glow from the candle making a pool of light around her. Finally, she stood outside her lovers room and she reached out to open the door, not bothering to knock first.

But then she heard a woman moan - as clear as the church bells that pealed around Charles Town on Sunday's. Horrified, Harmony's heart stopped and she stood stock still, her ears straining for more. Leaning in closer to the door, she could hear panting coming from within Richard's chamber.

She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Frozen in place, her jaw dropped and she gaped. The woman cried out then, and Harmony heard the distinct sound of Richard growling. The sound was as familiar to her as her own voice!

_Oh, my God, he's with another woman!_

Thought finally began to return to her but she was still hard pressed to move from her frozen position, out side his door with her hand on the knob.

A moment later, Richard cried out - a deep bellow of pure pleasure. Distraught, Harmony took several steps back, her eyes wide and her free hand pressed to her stomach. She felt she'd vomit, or cry, or scream or…

"Its always a pleasure, my dear."

She heard Bordon's muffled voice indistinctly. Before she could process the meaning of these words, the door was opening and a woman was backing out of the chamber. The woman shut the door then turned into the hallway.

Which was when Mage Putman came face to face with Harmony Jutland. Mage gasped with fright at finding someone where she had expected no one. That startlement faded however. The two women locked gazes, neither able to move, frozen in place as they were.

Finally, Bordon's words began to sink in - the meaning of them - and Harmony understood that this was not his first time with the aristocratic woman.

"How long?" She whispered, her eyes welling with tears, the vision of Mage's face blurring before her.

"Too long," Mage whispered back with disgust. The disgust was directed at herself, however - not at Harmony. "Our first time was on Saturday," she replied honestly to Harmony's question.

Harmony choked on a sob, raising a trembling hand to her lips as her tears spilled over.

"I… I thought he… oh…" she trailed off, sobbing quietly.

Mage stared at the other woman uncertainly. Initially, she had protested Harmony's presence in her household, out of jealously at first but mostly because the woman had no virtue. She was nothing more than a barmaid who would bed a man not her husband. But now? Well, Mage was bedding a man not her husband - worse yet, he was an enemy to her in every way. He'd confined her husband to the cells, imprisoned her and Cilla in their own home. She had not been exaggerating when she'd told Bordon she despised him. She was bedding a man she was both attracted to, but also hated with a vengeance. Just to have her tension relieved - her itch scratched as Bordon had so disgustingly suggested.

Who was she to judge?

"It meant nothing," Mage said, feeling oddly moved by the weeping woman. It cost her nothing to admit this to Harmony, to offer some reassurance, such as it was. She tried for a stately tone as she continued, "he cares nothing for me and I certainly care nothing for him."

Harmony hung her head, still weeping pitifully as Mage tightened her night robe around her body and moved off down the hall to the room she shared with Cilla. When the door shut behind the aristocratic woman, Harmony stepped forward tentatively and pushed open Bordon's bed chamber door carefully. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to work up her courage before she stepped around the open door.

"Back for more are you?" Came Bordon's voice, he could not see her yet, the open door blocking her from his view. "You'll have to wait until the morning now."

Her eyes widening at this declaration, Harmony stepped around the door to confront him.

Bordon spluttered on the mouthful of whiskey he'd just gulped down. The vision of him was blurred by her tears but she gazed down at him anyway, with a grave expression on her face, watching as he choked on whiskey.

"Harm!" His voice was shocked and desperate, he lurched from the chair and began jerking up his breeches with clumsy movements. "I can explain!" He gasped. His semi hard cock was then hidden from her view as he glanced down and fumbled at his buttons, all the while shooting frantic glances up at her.

How he could possibly explain this was beyond her - she knew fully well what he had been doing! Finally pulling her eyes away from him, she began to glance around the room. Harmony had left behind some of her possessions from her previous visits to the house. A sewing kit, a pair of stockings, some jewellery and an ivory hair clip - these items had belonged to her mother and were precious to her. She had only removed them to couple with Bordon but had not feared leaving them in his care. But now she was not intending to ever return to the room - or to Bordon for that matter - and she was loathe to leave them behind. She began to search for them.

"Harm, please," his voice was less shocked now, but still desperate. He stood behind her as she began putting her belongings in her pockets as she found them. "What are you doing?"

Bordon finally realised she was searching for her possessions and he feared what it meant.

"Harm?"

She finally turned to face him, her face a misery. Tears streaked her cheeks, her lips quivered - ready to begin crying again. And her eyes… Bordon gazed into her eyes - he'd never seen her at such depths, her anguish sliced through him, searing his soul.

"Just listen, please," Bordon beseeched, reaching out to place his hands on her arms. "Let me explain."

Harmony recoiled. She jerked away violently, skirts swishing about her.

"There is no explanation," she said raggedly. "Not for this."

"It meant nothing -"

"Thats what she said! But you said it - just now - that you were going to take her again in the morning and this was not your only time with her! I heard you, you said its '_always_' a pleasure! You've coupled with her before!"

She was breathing heavily by the end of this, panting with anger _and_ misery.

"I just…" Bordon was at a loss. He swayed before her drunkenly but even as soused as he was, he was still coherent enough to understand that things were going badly for him. Badly indeed. "Darling - you are at work so often and I don't get to see you! I don't get to couple with you and you know how needful I am!"

"So this is _my_ fault?!" Harmony gasped incredulously. "You _fuck_ another woman because I'm not here to see to your _needs_?"

"No, I mean yes, I mean…" Bordon cut off, trying to gather his thoughts with effort. "Thats not what I mean! Why do you have to work so much? Why is your damned independence so important to you? Why can't you just let me look after you, why can't you be here when I need you to be?"

"I can't believe you are blaming this on me!" Harmony cried in indignation. "You are away often too - off for days sometimes! Would those arguments hold any weight if I took another man to my bed!"

"No, they wouldn't!" Bordon bellowed, infuriated by the very idea.

"Oh, but you know how needful I am!" Harmony said, her voice with sarcasm. She threw her arms up and took several steps away from him. "If its good enough for you, then its good enough for me!"

Bordon's face twisted with feral fury - he lashed out, his hands snapping out too quickly for her to evade him. Fingers curled around her forearms, he jerked her to him, his savage face blazing above hers.

"You'll not take any other man to your bed!" He raged down at her, his eyes bright with blood lust. "This is your fault! You are meant to be my mistress!" he gave her a hard shake, Harmony's teeth rattled in her skull.

Fear sliced up her spine, leaving her gasping. She'd never been afraid of Richard before though she knew he could be fearsome, he'd never directed his anger at her before. Her own rage drained from her and she instinctively became limp in his arms. But Bordon continued to scream, his deranged words slicing through her, hurting her ears and feeding her terror.

"Mine! You're supposed to be here for me, in my bed! I shouldn't have to seek fulfilment from another woman! You should fucking be here! But no, you're more concerned with earning fucking every scrap of silver you can before we leave and why?" Again he shook her, hard enough that her bound hair began to come loose. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she sobbed pitifully, powerless against him. He was unhinged however, too fury filled to concern himself with her distress.

"Because you think I can't provide for you!" He screamed. "Because you want your independence, like these simpleton Patriots!" Another shake, Harmony felt faint and dizzy.

"Please, let me go," she whimpered. He ignored her, his fingers digging into her arms hard enough to leave indents and bruises.

"And now, after your very actions question my ability as a man, you tell me you'll put another in your bed?" He curled his lip and Harmony cowered away as much as his hold on her would allow, fearing that he would actually strike her. "You'd be unfaithful to me!"

The last was shouted in a berserkers rage and he did indeed pull his hand back, raising it high and threateningly. Harmony gasped, her eyes wide with fear and shock.

"Please don't hit me!" She begged, trying to pull free of the hand that still gripped her arm like a vice. Before Bordon could think of letting the blow land, the door slammed open and Tavington filled the doorway.

"What the Devil is going on in here!" He demanded, his brows knitted, his piercing gaze narrowed. Drunk as he was, he took in the scene at once - Harmony, leaning away from Bordon though she could not go far. Tears flooding over her flushed cheeks as she sobbed wretchedly, her hair in disarray. Bordon, holding her arm in a tight grip, his body tense and tight, his face deranged with fury, one arm raised, ready to strike his lover. He met Bordon's eyes across the room.

"This is none of your damned business, Tavington!" Bordon shouted and William raised his eyebrows coolly.

"Have you forgotten that I am your superior? Besides, you are shouting the house down, Bordon. This woman is not your wife and I will intervene on her behalf if I wish to," William informed him calmly. "Richard, why don't you put your arm down and try and relax? You'll regret hitting her tomorrow."

"Why, you going to stop me?" Richard spat, focusing his rage on William for want of a stronger target.

"If I must," William gazed became focused, his eyes piercing Richard's as he assumed a fighting stance.

The effect was spoiled slightly when Tavington swayed and stumbled, shifting his weight from foot to foot just to keep standing - he was decidedly soused himself. All he wanted was to collapse in bed - it was taking all of his willpower to stand at all. If he and Bordon were to fight a few rounds now, Tavington strongly suspected Bordon would be the victor.

"He's bedding Mage Putman," Harmony gasped in a pitiful voice, again jerking at Bordon's arm. "And he's blaming me for it!"

"Ah," Tavington replied, his eyes softening as he gazed at Harmony in her misery.

"I caught them at it," Harmony said wretchedly. "Oh, just please let me go, Richard!"

"Not until we've discussed this!" Richard growled.

"There's nothing to discuss! You were with another woman - we are through!"

"I'll not let you leave me!" Richard bellowed, becoming incensed all over again. William watched gravely, ready to intervene if it turned violent.

"Just go next door to Mrs. Putman's room, she'll take care of you!" Harmony cried pitifully. "Let me go! I don't ever want to see you again!"

"I'm not going to make it that easy for you!" Richard bellowed. "You will listen, you stupid woman -"

Her full arm slap took all three of them by surprise. Even Harmony, who delivered the blow, whose palm stung from the strike against Richard's cheek. Bordon stared down at her with shock for a moment, then his face twisted with rage and he raised his arm high to slap her back.

Suddenly Tavington was there. As though there was no space separating them - he was at the door, then suddenly he was at Bordon's side, his iron grip holding Richard's hand, preventing him from slapping Harmony.

"Release her," he commanded in a voice colder than snow. "That is an order, Major Bordon."

Bordon had been serving for four years, obeying his superiors was ingrained in him. He released his hold on Harmony and William released Bordon's wrist.

"You will calm down and the two of you will discuss this tomorrow in a calmer manner."

Bordon nodded by Harmony was shaking her head frantically.

"There will be no discussion," she said. Though she was crying, her voice was strong and decisive. "You fucked another woman - repeatedly, then tried to blame me! You accuse me of being independent? Well I'm going to show you just how independent I am! I don't need you! That much I've proven! I'm not coming with you to camp - in fact, I never want to see you again!"

"Harmony," Bordon whispered. His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy weight settling there. The strength of his affliction was such that he fought back the urge to weep - but he would not allow himself to be so unmanned before Tavington. She whirled from him and began striding around the bed toward the door.

He made a move to follow her but William placed his hand on his chest to halt him.

"Go to her tomorrow Richard," he advised. "You know what women are like - they are entirely unreasonable when they are angry. Give her tonight and go to her tomorrow."

Bordon nodded shortly. William removed his hand from the Major's chest and turned to leave. When he reached the door, he glanced back over his shoulder - his expression surprisingly compassionate.

"Well, at least I won't be alone in my misery now," he said softly. Then he shook himself, realising how weak and raw that sounded. Bordon's face was stone when William continued in a lighter tone. "We can always visit another Patriot tavern tomorrow, bust a few more rebel heads."

When Bordon did not so much as smile, William sighed heavily and left his adjutant to his despair. After all, he had his own to deal with.

::::::::::

**_Thursday 22_****_nd_****_ June_**

The following morning found William sleeping the sleep of the dead. Eventually a noise began to intrude on his peace. At first, he thought the thumping was coming from inside his skull. He was sprawled face down and naked across his bed, his arms shoved under the pillow beneath his head. There was something warm curled around him, that something was moving, stroking his bare back. With eyes squeezed shut, his face pressed into the pillow, he groaned softly against the pain pounding in his head.

The thumping began again, more insistently this time. Awareness began to return slowly and he blinked open his eyes.

"William," the warm something murmured, still caressing his back. "There are Officers calling for you to come out - you have been summoned to Clinton."

"Agh?" Tavington moaned.

Linda, seeing William was still incoherent, rose from the bed. Wrapping herself in William's banyan, she opened the door and spoke quietly with the hard faced Officers outside.

"He's had a hard night," she explained. "He's sleeping it off."

"He has five minutes to get out of that bed and dressed, or we'll drag him out," one unsympathetic Officer announced.

"Yes, Sir," she sighed heavily. Shutting the door, she went back to William's bedside. Stroking his hair, she called gently, "darling, wake up. Clinton has summoned you and if you don't get up those Officers are going to drag you out of here."

She had avoided calling him 'dear heart' since his frightful reaction the previous evening.

"Agh?" Came the response again, no more coherent than before. Linda pursed her lips.

"William - you have to get out of bed and get dressed!" She began pulling his arm, trying to drag him up. William barely budged an inch. His hair was in disarray around his shoulders, his corded arms pillowed his head. His eyes were puffy and blackened, there were bruises along his jaw. Linda had not seen the fight, but had heard it being told over and over by the Dragoons when they reached the Kings Arms. "William, they'll drag you out of here, they said they would! Get up!"

She pulled at him again and finally he turned over and gazed up at her bleary eyed.

"What?" he asked thickly.

"Officers. Here. You are summoned to Clinton. They'll drag you out in your skin if you don't get up and dress yourself!"

"Christ," William muttered, scrubbing his hand over his unshaved face. "What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock."

He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He tried to rise to his feet but dropped heavily to the bed again.

"Chamber pot," he said weakly. Linda barely had the bowl under his chin in time before her lover began heaving. She held his hair back, stroking his head gently as he convulsed over the bowl. When he was finished, she sat at Beth's desk and with a wince for his many bruises, she watched him dress.

_All mine now_, she thought to herself with smug satisfaction. _No more Miss bloody Beth Martin - who is to marry another man. I won't even have to share William with her in camp now, for he won't be marrying her himself. _

She refused to let it bother her that the reason for his anger and distress - the reason he'd taken Mariah and Sandra to his bed - was because he was heartbroken over another woman. Linda felt certain she could ease that heartbreak, now that she had him all to herself. Now that she no longer had to live in Beth's shadow. She would come first and foremost in William's life from this point forward.

William moved slowly, his entire body ached from the fight. And his wounds - the ones he'd taken at the Falls - they were on fire! He was dizzy as well, from too much liquor.

After several clumsy attempts, he managed to dress himself, waving Linda off when she tried to help him. He had to sit heavily on the edge of the bed in order to pull his boots on. And there he sat, with his head in his hands, groaning.

Linda watched him apprehensively. Eventually, she poured him a glass of water from the pitcher and handed it to him.

_Thump, thump, thump!_

"Sir! I really must insist!" The Officer called through the door, never ceasing the infernal pounding.

Tavington's patience snapped. He pushed Linda's arm away, shoving the proffered glass of water aside, then lurched from the bed. Grabbing his sabre from where it was propped against the wall, he drew it from the scabbard and threw the door open.

The Officers in the hallway were astonished to be greeted by the enraged Colonel, the first Officer most of all, for the point of William's sword was suddenly at the man's throat.

"Pound on that door again," William began softly, his pale gaze piercing. "And I'll slice you down the middle, do you understand?"

"Ah, yes, Sir," the Officer backed up several paces and swallowed hard.

"I will be with you momentarily," Tavington growled, kicking the door closed with his boot. The door slammed in the Officer's faces and William turned back into the room. His face was stone cold but his eyes raged. Linda swallowed and lowered herself to the bed, but William barely looked at her.

Striding across the room, he sat at Beth's desk and pulled a bowl over, pouring water in preparation to shave. His fingers shook slightly - another effect from the liquor, but he managed to shave without cutting himself. All the while he considered the implications of Clinton's summons.

The burned down tavern, he was certain. Patriots beaten and bloodied. At least no one was killed, though it had been a near thing. William had been in a blood lust toward the end, and when he pulled his dagger he was quite seriously contemplating killing that fellow who so closely resembled Burwell, if Bordon had not intervened.

All of the other men had laughed hysterically for the rest of the night, drinking and gaming - eventually whoring - regaling all who would listen with stories of their escapades. William had been mostly silent, drinking and watching, wearing a forced smile when he was taunted and teased. His thoughts, however, had never been far from Beth and her engagement to Colonel Burwell.

Even later on, when he disappeared upstairs with Mariah and Sandra - ignoring Linda's hurt expression as he did so - even then, his despair over Beth was not quenched. He'd taken Linda with him back to the Putman's. But the last of his energy had been spent keeping Bordon from striking Harmony and when he finally stumbled into his own chamber with Linda, he had been too exhausted to do more than undress and collapse in the bed.

And now he must stand before Clinton and answer for his nights roguery, the burned out inn, the wounded rebels. The drinking no doubt, would be mentioned also. What he would say in his defence, he did not know. It was too difficult to think through the muddle in his mind. The only thought that came through as clear as crystal, was that Beth was going to marry Colonel Burwell.

:::::::::::::

"You look a sight," Clinton shook his head with dismay and disgust. Standing before him was the newly promoted Officer - Clinton's protege, 'Colonel' William Tavington. Tavington stood proudly - or tried to. His back ramrod straight, one arm looped behind him, his head held high. But that was where his military poise ended.

His face was a mass of bruises and swelling. Patches of stubble marred his cheeks, stubble he'd missed when he shaved earlier. His dirty, unwashed hair was hastily bound back in a queue, his Uniform Redcoat and breeches akimbo. There was a very unpleasant stench wafting from him also, tawdry wine and ale and the smell of an unwashed body.

William stared directly ahead, past Clinton, not meeting the Commander in Chief's eyes.

"Do you know why I've summoned you, Colonel?"

"Yes, Sir!" William answered precisely.

"An inn razed to the ground," Clinton ground out as he came forward to stand toe to toe with William. He glared into the Colonel's pale eyes, his own face a fury. Tavington was forced to meet his commanders gaze finally. "Innocent men beaten for no good reason!"

"They were Patriots, Sir," Tavington said crisply, trying the only defence that would come to him. "We are here to put down the rebellion -"

"Silence!" Clinton roared, pushed beyond his limit. "They were drinking and playing cards, keeping to themselves until you and your Officers came in and deliberately started that fight! I have several eye witnesses who will attest this! Dare you deny it?"

William closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. "No, Sir, I do not deny it."

Stiff with fury, Clinton turned from William and strode around the large oak council table.

"So, this is how you would celebrate your promotion?" He asked William coldly. "I should not have to explain to you that a certain conduct is expected of you. It was important that you behave as a Gentleman before and now it is doubly so!"

"Yes, Sir."

"And yet, you see fit to behave like a newly recruited sailor on his first voyage, carousing at his first port of call!" Clinton snapped in disgust. "This is not how I would expect a man of your rank to behave. Furthermore, His Majesty King George would not expect it! If he hears one whisper of this, Colonel Tavington, I assure you here and now that you will be stripped of your rank!"

William's shoulders slumped and he lowered his gaze to the floor. Clinton, seeing the change, moderated his tone.

"Your men were involved but you must answer for them. An entire inn, burned to the ground!" He declared. Then he continued, perplexed and irritated, "what the devil were you thinking, Colonel? And I do not want to hear one word of that nonsense that you just prated - we will fight the rebels as Gentlemen, not as common brawlers!"

William swallowed and drew a deep, steadying breath. "Sir," he said softly, finally, "I received news yesterday that was not to my liking. I found it difficult to deal with. Nevertheless, my behaviour was abominable and I assure you nothing of its like will ever happen again."

"I'm glad to hear it," Clinton tilted his head to one side to regard the Colonel. "Would this 'news' have anything to do with Miss Martin and Colonel Burwell's engagement, Colonel Tavington?"

William stiffened, his face becoming stony once more. His eyes became hard and cold and again he stared straight past Clinton, his jaw working from side to side.

"I see that it is," Clinton murmured. He was silent himself for a few, drawn out moments, before clicking his tongue with frustration. "It is vexing, Tavington. I placed the girl under my protection and she foolishly left Charles Town, straight back to her father's authority. Now she is being forced to marry and there is nothing I can do for her."

Tavington said nothing to the contrary. He had manoeuvred and lied to Clinton, until the Commander in Chief had become so fond of the girl that he had taken her under his wing and declared himself her Guardian. There would be no point in speaking the truth of it now, that Beth was most likely marrying Burwell of her own accord.

"I'm worried for her," Clinton continued. "If it wasn't enough that she betrayed them by helping us, her Patriot father will be none too pleased when he hears these rumours that are circling about. I fear she will have to face the wrath of both her father _and_ her fiancé."

William stiffened with alarm - this was not something he had considered! He had busied himself with trying to salvage what he could of her reputation, to ensure she would have a place in Society after he married her. It had not occurred to him how her father would retaliate when he heard the rumors. If _William_ were a parent and _his_ daughter had dallied with an enemy Officer, the strap on her bare backside would be the least of her concerns. Some of his unease must have shown on his face for Clinton leaned in closer, studying him carefully.

"Are those rumours _true_, Colonel Tavington?" He asked in a disapproving tone. When Tavington hesitated, he continued, "I had not given the gossip credence before now!"

He studied the Colonel carefully as William hung his head with shame.

"So it is true then!" Clinton's cried in disgust and fury. "That night - the night of the ball - when I told you to take the girl for a walk - I meant in the gardens or through the manor. Not to a private chamber where her virtue would be compromised!"

The rebuke cut William to the bone and he lowered his eyes, again finding solace in silence. Clinton, however, was not finished.

"I should have you flogged for destroying her thusly!" He raged. "You were aware she was under my protection, I had claimed myself her Guardian - in your very presence!"

"Yes you did, Sir," William admitted finally. He met Clinton's fury filled gaze and wondered if the Commander in Chief would indeed condemn him to be flogged. "I know and I am sorry. I've regretted my actions many times since that night but please understand that my intentions toward her were honorable, I had planned to marry her myself. I have done what I can to protect her virtue - which is still intact, I assure you. Miss Martin is still a virgin."

"I am glad to hear it," the Commander in Chief curled his lip primly with distaste.

The men were quiet for a long, tense filled moment, Clinton allowing William to stew in his juices for a time.

"Judging by your appearance, and your stench," Clinton stated, his eyes taking the Officer in from head to toe, "you are already suffering far more pain than a flogging could inflict."

William averted his gaze. He detested admitting to such a weakness but it was true nonetheless. He was suffering the pain of a broken heart.

"As I said, there is nothing we can do for the girl," Clinton's disgusted tone revealed his frustration. "I will ignore last nights roguery, there will be no repercussions or disciplinary action," Clinton took a single step forward to glower at the Colonel. "You will, however, remember you are a representative of His Majesty King George and you _WILL_ pull yourself together!"

Tavington tilted his chin, his eyes and face stone.

"I need you to straighten your head, boy!" Clinton raged. "You cannot continue pining for a lost love - the unpleasantness of last night stands testimony to this. I won't tolerate a repetition no matter how broken hearted you might be, lets be clear here and now!"

"There will be no repetition, Sir," Tavington assured his Commander in a curt tone.

"See that there is not!" The Commander ground out. "Dismissed!"

Tavington inclined his head, turned sharply on his heel and strode from the office.

:::::::::::::::::

Bordon reined his horse in at the cobblers shop and dismounted, tying the lead rope to a post to stop his mount from wandering off. His boots thumped heavily as he trotted up the few wooden steps onto the verandah. Entering the shop, he saw it was devoid of life and he assumed the master must be out the back. Heading that way now - he knew the place well, having visited Harmony there - he'd even spent the night on occasion.

They were having lunch, he saw when he strode through the kitchen and into the dining room. Harmony was not there, only the cobbler and his family. The master's eyes bulged when he saw Bordon, but he rose immediately to halt the Officer.

"I'm sorry Sir, but you may not go upstairs," he said, barring Richard's way with his body.

"And why is that?" Richard ground out.

"Miss Jutland told me that she does not wish to see you and asked that I do not allow you through should you visit her here."

Richard's nostril's flared as he drew a sharp breath through his nose. He glanced at the cobblers wife, who quickly averted her gaze. She was sitting at the table spoon feeding a young child in a high chair. Bordon returned his gaze to the cobbler.

"I am going up," he stated firmly. "If you try to stop me, if will not go well for you."

"Please Sir," the cobbler beseeched. "She has made her wishes clear!"

"Well, thats just to bad," Richard stated, pushing past the smaller man. "She will damned well listen to what I have to say or I'll tan her bloody hide!"

These last words were delivered as Bordon began to climb the stairs. The family exchanged nervous glances, worried for their young lodger.

Bordon reached the next landing and strode down the poorly lit hallway until he reached Harmony's room. His face a mask of stone, he reached out and tried the door knob. It was locked.

"Harmony!" He bellowed. "Open this door at once!"

"Go away!" Came the shout from inside the chamber. "I meant it - I never want to see you again!"

Harmony had spent a wretched night, twisting and turning in her sheets, crying herself out until exhaustion finally took her into a fitful sleep. She woke as heartbroken in the morning as she had been the following evening when she'd discovered him with Mage. He bedded that other woman, blamed Harmony and then threatened to hit her! Indignation and heartbreak did not go well together and she found herself unable to pull herself out of her bed. She had done so, in the end, but for no longer than it took to tell Mr. Phillips that she had no desire to see Bordon, before she went directly back to her room and climbed beneath the covers again.

"Harmony!" He shouted again, this time banging heavily on the door with his fist.

"You'll wake the baby and then I'll get into trouble!" Harmony screeched through the closed door. "You selfish, unfeeling man - go away!"

"I won't! If you don't want the baby woken, then open the damned door!"

"Why, so you can tell me how its all my fault again?" She shouted, rising from the bed and standing at the door - she made no move to unlock it - just stood there keeping the thick wood as a barrier between them.

"I didn't mean any of that!" Bordon said, lowering his voice slightly and trying for diplomacy. "It was the shock of it all. Just open up the door and we'll talk -"

"Oh, we're trying to be reasonable now, are we?" Harmony chortled bitterly. "You weren't so reasonable last night, when you almost struck me! You were the unfaithful one, not me!"

Her words stuck in her throat and an unexpected sob choked out. She pressed her hands to her stomach and leaned forward, closing her burning eyes against yet another flood of tears. Somewhere down the hall, the cobblers infant son began to cry - woken by Bordon's rage.

"Harm?" Bordon called softly, having heard her sobs. "Open the door, darling - we'll set this to rights." He tried the handle again, hoping she'd unlocked it.

Harmony rested her forehead against the splintered wood of the door, her face anguished. It was tempting, she had to admit. To let him in, to forgive him. To have his hands on her, to kiss him. Her Major - so strong and handsome - so loving… But then the vision popped in her mind, of Bordon being loving with Mage Putman as the two coupled in his bed at Mrs. Putman's home, the same bed in which he had made love to Harmony.

_He's not my Major,_ she thought with despair. _He'll be unfaithful again - they always are!_

Hardening her resolve, she called through the door, "please just go, Richard."

Bordon was quiet for a long time. He panted with frustration, his anger growing again. She was just on the other side of the door - so close, so close! If he could just speak to her, now that he was sober he could articulate himself and give a far better explanation than he had the night before. If she'd just see him, just listen!

"Harmony," he ground out, his voice loaded with implied threat. "Open. The. Door."

"No."

"Damn it!" Bordon took a step back and kicked the door with the tip of his hard boot, pulled his leg back and kicked again. The door shuddered and the violent, loud cracks caused the baby to scream now, with fright.

"Stop it!" Harmony cried from inside. "Just go - stop that now!"

Eventually he did stop. Panting from his exertions, he glanced down the hallway to see the cobblers wife. Her eyes were huge and her face terrified. She quickly ducked into the bedchamber to soothe her baby who was screeching uncontrollably, terrified by all the noise.

"Just go," Harmony said again. "I don't want to see you."

"You don't want to see me?" Bordon tightened his lips, cold fury searing through him. "Very well. This is it, Harmony. I will grant you your wish - I'll never come to you again. I'll not allow you to make me look a fool."

A heart wrenching sob was her answer but Bordon was cold now - implacable in his rage. If she wanted it to be over, then it would be over. He would pursue her no longer, he would humiliate and shame himself over her no further.

"I don't need you either," he said aloud.

Hearing this declaration, she began to cry in earnest but Bordon ignored it, hardening his resolve. They were in the middle of a war, for Christ's sake. He needed his head about him - just like William who had been hauled over the coals by Clinton that very morning. He would do as William had been commanded do, he would get his head straight - pull himself together. He would give his superiors no reason to question his stability or his strength. He would not allow himself to be weakened by a woman.

_I don't need her_, he told himself as he strode down the hall away from her chamber and trotted back down the stairs. _She's just another woman, another notch in my belt. I'll find another, I'll be fine. I don't need her._

These cold thoughts became a mantra, helping him to harden his resolve as he repeated them over and over on the ride back to the Putman's. For if he didn't at least partway convince himself that he didn't care; then he didn't have a shit show in Hell of convincing _Tavington_.

::::::::::::

_A/N: I should have gotten this chapter out earlier to help celebrate the 4th of July! :-)_

_Ms A: Another sweet shop candy for you! A little bit lower key than the previous chapter though. To be honest, as a Tavington fangirl - I can't wait for Beth and Tavington's reunion too! The scene is all in my head, waiting to be written but its still a while off yet. As always, thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you liked the fight scene in the bar. xo_


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